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STABLE TALK ^^ 



TABLE TALK, 



QIV 



SPECTACLES FOR YOUNG SPORTSMEN, 



HARRY HIEOVER, 



PHILADELPHIA: 
LEA AND BLANC HARD 

1845. 






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PREFACE. 



I AM told that I should have a Preface or Introduction 
to my book. My adviser being one of known taste and 
judgment, I am determined that one part of this work shall 
show both good taste and good judgment in its author. 
That part, and possibly the only part that will do so, is 
the taking such advice. Conscience whispers that an 
:apology for offering it to public notice is still more neces- 
.«ary. This I was not told: politeness alone probably pre- 
vented my being so; let me therefore hope the public will 
consider what I now offer as Preface, Introduction, and 
Apology. 

I have read prefaces in which the Author assures his 
reader, if the book is found to beguile a vacant hour of his 
time that its end and aim will have been fully accom- 
plished. That such philanthropic feelings may actuate 
such authors, it would ill become me to dispute: where 
they do, 1 conceive they must emanate either from men 
,of such transcendent abilities that composing a work gives 
them no trouble, or from those of such fortunes that pecu^ 
niary advantage was quite beneath their consideration. 

That I am not one of the former class I am perfectly 
satisfied; that I am not now one of the latter I am as per^ 
fectly convinced, though by no means satisfied. 

Prior to commencing the fugitive j^apers of whicli this 
work is a corrected portion, I was enjoying that much-co- 



IV. PREFACE. 

veted "Dolce far niente." Now so far as the "dolce" ia 
concerned, no matter in what shape it comes, I can enjoy 
it with as much "gusto" as any man breathing, and am 
grateful enough to say I have had my full share of it in 
various ways. The "far niente" with a very good income 
does extremely well, and is very pleasant; but when 
we begin to anticipate its continuance might bring the 
*' niente" in contact with the purse, it does not do at all, 
and is not pleasant, but is I trust an apology for this work. 
In soliciting indulgence for the many failings that will 
be found in the Author as a writer, 1 may I trust be per- 
mitted to observe, that the fugitive thoughts, hints, and 
opinions he ventures to publish are not those of the theo- 
rist, but of one who from a mere child has mixed in and 
enjoyed every sporting pursuit alluded to in the work, isi 
engaged in some of them now, and trusts ere long to enjoy 
on a limited scale all again. If so, and the ideas contained 
in the work should be considered by the Sporting World 
to be (taken as a whole) tolerably correct, his happiness, 
will be complete. 

II. H. 



STABLE-TALK AND TABLE-TALK, 

&c. &a 



CUJUM PECUS. 

llACE-HORSES CONSIDERED AS PtTBLIC PROPERTY. 
"Vix ea nostra voco. — Oviu.- 

It lias been, I believe, a generally receiv^ed opinion In 
this country, when a msin has purchased any kind of pro- 
pert}', paid for it, and it has been delivered to him, that 
the property becomes his, and, provided he does nothing 
with it to infringe the laws of his country, he has an un- 
disputed right to do what he pleases with it; as this right 
would be allowed, whether he bought an estate, a house, or 
ten hunters that should cost him a thousand pounds, or any 
given sum. — Any one might naturally suppose, if a man 
chose to give a thousand pounds for a race-horse, that he 
would be allow^ed the same freedom of will in what he 
might please to do with him. I should have thought the 
same thing when I was fifteen, but 1 knew better before I 
was twenty. Now, so far from being considered at liberty 
to do what he pleases with such a horse, he will very coolly 
be told vv'hat is tantamount to this, that he is not his pro- 
perty: on the contrary, that he must consider his horse as 
the properly of the public; and that, instead of his being 
at liberty to consult his own interest or pleasure as to his 
running, he must consider only that of the pubHc. We 
tvill suppose he had entered his horse for some stake on the 
Monday, and also for another on the follotving Wednesday, 
and that for some reason or other he was in a great mea- 
sure indifferent as to winning the Monday's race, but par- 
ticularly anxious to win that on the Wednesday, simply, 
2 



14 HORSES RUXNIXG FOR THE BENEFIT OF BETTERS. 

perhaps, because he had said he would win that particular 
race, or that some one's horse was in it that he was parti- 
cularly emuious to beat. Now, one might very naturally 
infer that a man had a right to give his jockey samething 
like these- instructions: "Now, George, I am |xirtieular}y 
anxious to win the stakes on Wednesday: if you find you 
can win to-day at your ease, do- so; if, on the contrary, yoa 
find you will have to take a great deal out of your horse to^ 
win, pull up at once, for we must not be beat on Wednes- 
day if we can help it." There certainly does not appear 
any thing very unreasonable in supposing that a man has a 
right to forego winning money if he chooses to do so: but 
the betting fraternity will tell you that you do not possess 
tliis right; an'd if you do exercise it, let me recommend 
you a porter to carry the load of abuse awaiting you; your 
own shoulders will in no way suffice for the purpose. You 
will be told that you have a right to lose your own money 
if you please, but that you have no right to lose that of 
other pf'rsons: that your horse had been backed heavily to 
win; consequently he ought to have been made to win if 
possible: in short, so long as whip and spur could avail, 
they ought to have been used on your horse for their be- 
nefit, or at least the chance of it, whether 3^ou choose it or 
not. 

In the above directions nothing like inteiested motives 
in a pecuniary point of view was the influence: but we will 
suppose a case where a man chooses to consult what he con- 
siders his interest, and still where the transaction is per- 
fectly honourable and straight- forward. I have a colt en- 
tered for the Derby: he has run and won some good stakes, 
and this has probably brought him up pretty high in the 
betting. Some person, for reasons best known to himself, 
and wJHch I have no inducement to investigate, offers me, 
say two thousand pounds, for my colt, which I may consi- 
der fraiu his previous running to be fairly worth about one. 
1 may think, like others, my chance of winning the Derby 
t3 be very good : in short, my horse is first or second fa- 
vourite^ but 1 may not be a betting man, or disposed in any 
thing to go the " whole hog;" consequently prefer making 
a thousand sure, by selling m}^ colt, to standing the chance 
of winning the stakes, worth we will say three, but attended 



TURF BETTERS. 15 

with all the risk inseparable from such events. It certainly 
appears hard I should not be allowed to do this without 
calling forth the animadversions of the turfmen — I should 
rather say the betting men; for such men as (we will say) 
the Duke of Grafton, Sir Gilbert Heathcote, and many 
others, would not cai'e one farthing whether I sold my 
horse or kept him. They feel a very laudable emulation 
to have the best horse in the race; therefore are anxious to 
win; are gratified if they do; and are to a certain degree 
mortified if their horses run badly. I allow that to triumph 
when we win, or show temper when we lose, is un gentle- 
manlike and ungenerous; that is, when the loss or gain of 
money is the consideration: but I glory in seeing a man 
delighted when his horse wins; there is a freshness in the 
thing that really does one good to see. Depend on it, such 
a man is no Le^^. The latter wins or loses his money with 
the most inflexible coolness; he takes it as a matter of bu- 
siness. If he keeps horses, so far from taking any pleasure 
in them, he cares not if he never sees them from one year's 
end to the other: whenever he does, it is merely a visit of 
business. If his horse wins, he pockets the money, but 
neither cares nor thinks more about him than he does about 
the spit that hangs in his kitchen, and has roasted the mut- 
ton for his table. Unfortunately for racing, it is chiefly 
this description of turfmen who virtually (certainly not 
virtuously) hold the helm of racing affairs: yet such men 
might all be driven off" the turf. If such owners of race- 
horses as keep them from the love of racing, and the pro- 
per emulation of having the best horses, would only set 
about the thing, it would cost them neither trouble nor ex- 
pense, but would put their own characters beyond suspi- 
cion, and would at once di-aw a distinct line between such 
men as keep race-horses merely as machines to win money 
with, and those who keep them from a patriotic wish to 
encourage the breed of superior horses, to enjoy sj)ort them- 
selves, and contribute to that of others. 

Racing, we all know, was first established merely as an 
amusement. This of course led to an emulation among 
those fond of such amusement to get the best horses; and 
this induced people to begin to look for means to improve 
their breed. Here was an absolute good done to the coun- 



16 queen's plates. 

try. No matter whether the race was with chariots, whether 
the horses were turned loose on a straight-roped course, or 
whether ridden over the Beacon, racing will always tend 
to improve the breed of horses in whatever country it is 
established. King's plates were given for this patriotic 
purpose; and doubtless at the time when a hundred guineas 
was worth the best horse's starting for, it had a very good 
effect; bqt our other stakes have now become so heavy that 
a queen's plate is considered a very mediocre affair. To 
win a king's plate formerly stamped a horse's character at 
once: now, only two years since, the same horse won seven 
queen's plates in the same season — a good horse certainly, 
but still no flyer. It is flattering to the turf to be patron- 
ised by royalty, and queen's plates add to the respectability 
of a meeting: but as to the original intention of these gift^, 
that is now totally set aside. I think between England, 
Ireland, and Scotland, the queen gives about fifty plates to 
be run for;* that is, five thousand pounds. For many of 
these we see every year several "walks over;" and where 
this is not the case, the field generally comprises four or 
five horses at most, often two or three: so, from the small- 
ness of the amount (in these days;) it has become compa- 
ratively five thousand thrown away. It would be too great 
a tax on royal liberality to increase the value of this host of 
plates so as to make each worth running for; but if perhaps 
^ve royal plates of a thousand pounds each were given in 
lieu of these, the original intention would be more brought 
to bear than it is at present. When it took a week to get 
a race-horse a hundred miles, and that also stopped his work 
for so long a period, it was quite necessary to have royal 
plates distributed thus widely over the country, otherwise 
the horse in training at Ascott could not without great in- 
convenience be got to Doncaster to run for a royal plate 
there: but now the railroads have remedied that inconve- 
nience, there would be sure to be good fields for plates 
worth a thousand, or even five hundred, each. The towns 
fi'om which they might be taken would lose little by it; 
for where we see a ^^ walk over,'^ or a field of three horses, 

* There are thirty-six queen's plates for England, and fifteen for Ireland. — 
Ed. 



BETTING AS A BUSINESS. 17 

it plainly shows that at the present moment queen's plates 
create but little attraction. 

Returning to those laws that betting men will always 
uphold (so long as they can) — tlie first of which is that 
their interest is to be the fiat under which every owner of 
a race-horse must act — I really cannot see why such per- 
sons or their interest should be consulted at all. What 
good do they do the turf? Certainly very little; while 
their influence, on the contrary, does it a great deal of harm. 
Doubtless there are some men who keep several horses in 
training, and bet heavily at the same time; but these are 
comparatively very few indeed in number. Where one 
hundred is betted by those who keep race-horses, forty 
hundreds are betted by those who do not. Hundreds of 
those who bet largely know little or nothing about a race- 
horse, neither know a racing-looking horse — whether he is 
a good goer, or, if going to run, whether he looks in good 
form for it or not. The fact is, such men merely as a bu- 
siness make up a book, look to the different horses' public 
running, and lay or take the odds accordingly. This, and 
this only, is their business. If they attend a race, it is 
merely to see whether at the last moment they cannot get 
some point in their favour as to the odds. If at the same 
meeting a race is run for on which they have no bet, pro- 
bably they do not take the trouble of looking at it; and if 
they do, it is merely to see how it is run, won and lost, so 
as to enable them to judge how to lay or take the odds on 
any of the horses in it when engaged in another stake. 
Such poachers are not worthy tiie name of racing men, 
though unfortunately they get among them. These are the 
harpies who plunder the legitimate supporters of the turf, 
and bring one of our finest old English sports into disre- 
pute. These are the men who are, by themselves and 
their agents, at the bottom of all the villanies that are so 
constantly practised, the frequent occurrence of which has 
disgusted and driven so many men of family, rank, and 
wealth from the turf, from finding they must either be pi- 
geoned, or, like the rest, '■'fight at the leg" themselves. 
If they would, in the literal sense of the v/ord, "fight at 
the leg," that is, the black-lea;, spoil his trade, and so drive 
him off the turf, thev would confer a benefit on society. 

2* 



IS BETTING AS A BUSINESS PREJUDICIAL TO THE TURF. 

Then, and not till then, shall we again see noblemen and 
gentlemen keeping their stud of race-horses, as they do 
their pack of fox-hounds, as an appendage to their rank in 
life, as an amusement to themselves, and as a gratification 
and advantage to the country at large. This can never be 
the case while betting, instead of racing, is left to be the 
primum mobile of the machinery of turf affairs. The 
mere betting men may and will say that betting keeps alive 
the spirit of racing. No such thing: it may keep up an 
artificial effervescence; but if that was stopped, while we 
are Englishmen the true spirit will always remain among 
US. Supposing, however, it did diminish the number of 
race-horses kept, or the number of races run, if the race- 
course is to be only a hell in the open air, instead of in St. 
James's or King street, vvhy, the sooner it is checked or 
stopped, the better. If a race- course, instead of being a 
healthful and exhilarating spot, where we expect to see an 
assemblage of the first sporting men in the world, their 
families, their friends, and their tenants, come to enjoy a 
truly English and noble sport, is to be converted into an 
extended rouge et noir table, and black and red to win, not 
because either is on the best horse, but because it suits the 
books of a set of miscreants, it is quite time to stop the thing 
at once, and begin it de novo. 

We have, however, still a few men (and a very few in- 
deed) on the turf whose character and position in life place 
them beyond suspicion; but among the nobility of the Uni^ 
ted Kingdom — which amounts, I should say, to about seven 
hundred, independently of lords by courtesy — we find now 
scarcely more than twenty patronising the turf by keeping 
race-horses — a pretty sure criterion of its respectability un- 
'der the present system! Formerly, when racing was car- 
ried on as racing should be, if a man won, he walked up to 
his horse, received the congratulations of his friends, and 
felt a very justifiable pride in his horse's triumph; he knew 
he had won fairly, and had no fear of being suspected of 
having ever done otherwise. But now, nothing appears to 
be done openly: the owner of a horse retires among the 
crowd, and appears, and really is, afraid of being pointed 
out as connected with the turf. A manyindeed, must rank 
very high in public estimation to keep his character v^x^-- 



RACING AS A SPORT. 19 

scathed. I have mentioned how few of our nohility now 
keep race-horses: what a host of those, and men of family 
and fortune, could I name who have given it up! What 
does this prove? Not that such men are not as well dis- 
posed to patronise the turf as formerly, but that they neither 
choose to rob or be robbed ; and one of the other they must 
be, so long as betting men, and not the owners of horses, 
are permitted to sway the racing world. 

It is pretty generally allowed, by all persons who know 
any thing about the matter, that no man under ordinary 
circumstances can make money by keeping race-horses, if 
he merely runs to win. If a man of large fortune keeps 
them, he ought to calculate that they will cost him so much 
a year according to their number, and put them down to his 
expenses as he does his other horses, or carriages, or his 
hounds. If he does not think them worth this expense, he 
had better not go upon the turf; for if he means to retain 
the character of a gentleman and man of honour, he ought 
to calculate to lovSe so much. He may, however, be fortu- 
nate in his horses, possess good judgment himself, or find a 
trainer who has, and who will be honest enough to place 
his horses well for him, and do all in his power to win — 
he may, therefore, under such circumstances, keep them at 
very little expense, but an expense he must reckon on their 
being more or less; for make money by them honestly he 
will not in one case in a hundred. 

Let me, however, endeavour to rescue racing and race- 
horses from the sweeping charge that is brought against 
them as being the ruin of thousands. The fact really is, 
that simply racing and the keeping race-horses will bring 
no man to ruin unless he is a ready-made fool. If a man 
of 500/. a year is idiot enough to set up his four-in-hand, 
of course he must be ruined; but we are not to say from 
this that fours-in-hand are the ruin of those w^ho keep them. 
They will, of course, be the ruin of those who do so with- 
out the means: so will race-horses. If a man ruins him- 
self by either keeping the one or the other, it is his own 
fault: he does it gradually, with his eyes open, and is, 
therefore, that sort of simple young gentleman, who, if he 
did not do it by these means, would be sure to do it by 
^Qmp other. We might as well say a bottle of wine a day 



20 RACE-HORSES NOT RUINOUS; 

is sure ruin, because it would be so to a merchant's clerk 
at 70/. a year salary. We might as well suppose a man 
was certain to be ruined should we see a pack of cards or 
a back-gammon box and dice in his house, because many 
have ruined themselves b}^ an improper use of either, or 
both. Even here I will allow a man to play v/ith either 
every day, and play for high stakes if he pleases. Pro- 
vided he always plays for about the same stakes, plays with 
gentl-emen, not legs, and never bets, he will find at the 
year's end that (supposing, of course, he has played with 
common judgment) he has neither won nor lost enough to 
materially affect his finances. So it is with race-horses. 
Let a man keep two or half-a-dozen, according to his in- 
come: let him buy his horses with judgment, place them in 
proper hands, and also enter them properly according to 
their qualifications in proper stakes, and never bet on them 
or on any other person's, and he will never be ruined by 
race-horses. Let him, however, bear in mind, that I warn 
him he must lay by 500/. or 1000/. a year of his income, 
according to the number he keeps, for their expenses and 
his amusement. The whole of this may not be called for: 
it is within the bounds of possibility they may pay their 
expenses one with another, and one year with another; but 
he must not calculate on this. If, therefore, he cannot af- 
ford to pay so much a year, he has no business to keep race- 
horses: if he can, they will never ruin him more than keep- 
ing his hunters, if he can afford to keep them : if he cannot, 
they will, of course, eventually equally ruin him. It is 
not, therefore, that hunters or race-horses are in themselves 
to be considered as ruinous; but the ruin arises from keep- 
ing any thing a man cannot afford to keep. 

We will now, however, look at another and very dis- 
tinct feature in racing affairs (pity it is not more distinct;) 
namely, the betting part of the business. Though " the 
tug of war " may come when '^ Greek meets Greek," when 
the man of honour meets the Greek there is no tug of war 
at all: the forlorn hope alone advances, advances at the pets 
de charge; the forlorn hope is the man of honour, and of 
course is " blown up." Therefore, although give a man, 
we will say 2000/. a-year, and he chooses to keep four 
horses in training, I should never fear his merely keeping 



BUT BETTING IS. 21 

and running them being his ruin: let me once see him back 
his horse in any thing like a heavy bet, from that moment 
(and particularly should he be so unfortunate as to win) I 
will back him at 50 to 1 to be ruined in a very short time: 
indeed a few meetings will sew him up. He has then only 
one thing left if he means to keep on the Turf; and that is, 
to throw aside all feelings of honour, turn Leg, and rob 
other people. This man certainly has no right to say 
racing or race-horses have been his ruin. True, if he had 
never kept race-horses, he might not have been led into 
betting; nor would he if he had never been born: so if he 
chooses to carry the thing back to its first cause, he may 
with tolerably fair logic affirm that betting has been his 
ruin — that keeping race-horses brought on betting — and 
that being born brought on keeping race-horses — conse- 
quently being born was the cause of his ruin. 

To a gentleman so situated, by allowing a little latitude 
of imagination, it might not be very difficult to prove that 
being born had been the cause of his ruin. If our present 
object was a dissertation on primary causes, we would al- 
low that his thesis might be in some measure correct, and 
I will furnish another instance in favour of his argument. 
A man goes to Crockford's splendid house, drinks his 
splendid champagne, and finally loses his own splendid 
fortune, or a part of it. Doubtless, if he had not entered 
the house, he had not drunk the champagne, nor lost his 
fortune there; so, according to our friend's doctrine, a 
splendid house and splendid champagne were the cause of 
the ruin, and are consequently to be avoided. Now I beg 
so far to differ in opinion as to roundly assert that the 
house and the champagne are both mighty good things; so 
are race-horses; and, being born, all are perfectly harmless, 
if we would only use them for the purposes for which they 
were intended, and not by our own folly turn things that 
were designed for our amusement or luxury, or both, into 
the means of our misery and ruin. When this is the case, 
the fault is not in the things themselves, but in the weak- 
ness of the mind of the man. In my intercourse with the 
world, 1 have been led hundreds of times into gaming- 
houses, both at home and abroad, and never once took a 
dice-box in my hand where hazard was played. I am and 



22 THE FIRST STEP TOWARDS RUIN STOPPED. 

always was enthusiastically fond of racing, and was so as a 
boy. I considered then, and consider now, the seeing a 
favourite horse win his race one of the most exhilarating 
moments of a man's life; and yet (with the exception of 
once, and that when quite a boy,) I never could be tempted 
to back either a horse of my own or that of any other per- 
son for 51. in my life. I love racing as a sport, and do de- 
clare that for a moderate stake, I shouM leave the course 
in higher spirits if my horse had won handsomely, though 
he might have gone the wrong side of a post, by which I 
should lose the stakes, than 1 should had he run a bad 
second, and my opponent's horse, from having made the 
mistake, caused the stakes to be given to me. With this 
feeling, no man will ruin himself by keeping race-horses; 
for this very feeling will keep him from risking heavy 
bettino;. 

I will instance a man whose name will never be for- 
gotten by the sporting world, or cease to be mentioned in 
terms of admiration and respect by all who had the advan- 
tage of his acquaintance; I mean, Francis Mellish, Esq., 
better known as Captain Mellish. He was, I should say, 
a man of thirty-five when I was a boy of fifteen. From 
him I caught the love of racing; from him I first got what 
little knowledge I have of racing matters; and from him 
I got advice that, unfortunately^ for himself, he had not re- 
solution enough to follow. I will mention an anecdote in 
proof of this. I met him on the course at Newmarket, 
when he saluted me with, " What the d — 1 are you look- 
ing so sulky about?" — I replied, "I am not sulky, but I 
have been losing ni)' money." — " I am glad of it," said 
he: "what have you been backing?" — "Your horse." — 
"How much have you lost?"— " 50/." — " Well, I have 
lost 1500/. on the same race; but if I was fool enough to 
bet, it was no reason you should have done so." — I replied, 
and truly, "it was the first bet I had ever made." — 
His answer has been engraven in letters of gold on the 
tablet of memory ever since: " I congratulate you on losing 
the first bet you ever made: let it be the last: never back 
your own horses (if you ever keep any,) or those of any 
other person so long as you live: take this advice from one 
who knows something about these things, and has paid 



"look here, upon this FICTtTRE, AND ON THIS.'^ Z3 

dearly for his knowledge." — I did take his advice, and 
never made a bet to the amount of 51. since. 

Here is a case that bears me owt in my assertion that 
betting heavily, not keeping race-horses, ruins people (the 
Le,s^s of course excepted.) Had Mellish confined himself 
to keeping his horses, his judgment was so good — in breed- 
ing, buying, and then placing them — that his winnings 
would have been a fortune. This, however, he would not 
do. ^' Peace to his manes !'^ he had, I believe, every vir- 
tue but one — prudence. 

I will mention another man nearly equally fortunate as 
to his winnings by his horses as Melfish, though in other 
respects " no more like him than I to Hercules," — the late 
John Beardsworth. Now, he knew about as much of 
racing when he first ivent on the turf, as I do of the navi- 
gation of the Poles, and in fact very little at the last; yet, 
from having come into possession of poor Mytton's horses, 
he had at one time perhaps a better stable of race-horse« 
than any man in England, got them well placed for him, 
and consequently his winnings in cups, stakes, &c,, 
amounted to such an enormous sum that 1 should be fear- 
ful of mentioning it les^t my accuracy might be doubted. 
Now many jz^ersons 1 dare say to this day think the Turf 
was his ruin: no such thing; nor was betting, for he, com- 
paratively speaking,, never betted a shilling. Large con- 
tracts with Government in post-horse duties did the busi- 
ness: his race-horses would have saved, instead of ruined 
him. 

When I speak of betting men, I can in no way allow 
them to be mixed up with gentlemen who keep race horses. 
I allude to. the former (and would be happy to see them 
considered) as a distinct class, as men on whom any man 
of honour should look with suspicion, and with whom 
none of the legitimate patrons of the Turf should allow 
themselves to come in contact. And when I speak of bet- 
ting, I in no shape allude to men of fortune who back their 
own horses or those of others to the tune of a few hun- 
dreds, which they merely do to give a further zest to the 
interest of a race. This with them is nothing more than 
betting their pony on the odd trick at whist, which they 
win to-night and lose to-morrow. Neither do I include 



24 "ne vile velis." 

the Country gentleman, who from his knowledge (or more 
probably fancied knowledge) of the merits of the different 
horses engaged at any of the meetings in his neighbour- 
hood, sports his 50/. on such occasions. Nor, again, to the 
Yeoman, with his good-humoured countenance, who, from 
a love of sport, boisterousl}^ bets his sovereign on each race, 
which he laughingly pockets if he wins, or as cheerfully 
pays if he loses. No; all this encourages the sport, by 
giving an additional but harmless interest to the racing. 
Such men all in their w^ay contribute to keep the thing 
alive, and probably materially assist in raising the funds 
for each meeting. This kind of betting will always go on 
at every race, and would be quite sufficient for all racing 
purposes. 

Such men as these are the true friends of the Turf: they 
contribute as much to forward its interests as the regular 
Le^ conduces to bringing it into disrepute. No man would 
warn his son or his friends from mixing with the former, 
while every one guards him from racing altogether, fearing 
he should meet with, and consequently be pillaged by, the 
latter. If 1 speak bitterly of such men, it does not arise 
from any sourness of feeling from having personally suf- 
fered by them: in justice to them, I must say they never" 
robbed me; perhaps one trifling circumstance prevented it 
^-^I never gave them the chance. I have said that not 
one in a hundred of these men keep race-horses. There 
are a few who keep third or fourth rate horses, and go lea- 
ther-plating about the country. Of course they make this 
answer their purpose sumehoiv: but as every man knows 
that such horses can never pay their expenses if they run 
to win, we may pretty accurately judge by what means 
they are made to pay in such hands. 

It has been said that racing levels all distinctions of per- 
sons. The idea is preposterous that it must necessarily 
do so more than driving four-horses or keeping a pack of 
hounds. If gentlemen choose to associate with the ordi- 
nary class of stage- coachmen, make their dress, habits, and 
language objects of imitation, distinction of persons would 
be levelled in this instance. If the owner of hounds was 
to make his huntsman and whips his companions, or to 
associate with none but hard-drinking, illiterate, vulgar 



TO AVOID others' LEGS, TAKE TO YOUR OWN. 25 

bumpkins, he would in his particular case also break down 
the barrier between the gentleman and the plebeian; the 
more so if he chose (as I once saw a nobleman do) to assist 
his whip in very mercilessly flogging a hound, — a piece of 
discipline which, though sometimes necessary, is one that 
any man with the common feelings of humanity would 
rather ride a mile round than witness, instead of becoming 
an uncalled-for actor in its execution. 

If a man on the turf stoops to tamper with the honesty 
of his trainer, jockey, or stable-boy, he of course brings 
himself to their level, or below it. If he also chooses, for 
the sake of making up his book, to associate (we will allow 
only /7ro ^e?7Z/?ore,) consult, and bet with blacklegs and 
sharpers, he must necessarily lose that distinction his ori- 
ginal position in society entitled him to hold. In short, 
it is not racing that levels distinction, but, like every thing 
else, the way in which it is sometimes done. 

There are certainly some pursuits so degrading in them- 
selves (bull-baiting, dog-fighting, &c.) that, carry them on 
as you will, being the pursuits of the ruffian and black- 
guard, must degrade the gentleman. Here no adventitious 
circumstance is wanted to level distinction — to encourage, 
patronise, or even witness such barbarities, is enough to 
produce such effect. But racing ever has been the pursuit 
of the higher classes of society ; and the only way by which 
noblemen or gentlemen can lose caste, or bring themselves 
on a level with the Leg, is by countenancing him and de- 
scending to his habits and practices. 

I have said that these sharpers might easily be driven 
from the turf, or at all events their influence be destroyed. 
If we could prevent fools playing at thimble-rig, we should 
require no rural police to keep the table-keepers from the 
race-course. If people would neither carry watches nor 
sufficient money into crowds to be worth the attention of 
pickpockets, they would disappear from such places also. 
So, if noblemen, gentlemen, and all respectable men would 
determine neither to countenance, bet with, nor speak to 
professed Legs, their harvest would be destroyed, and they 
would take themselves off also. "Dog will not eat dog," 
nor would it suit the books of the Legs to bet among them- 
selves only. If those real patrons of racing who still keep 
3 



26 BOTTLE RACING, 

their horses oq the course would only come to the deter- 
mination of striking at the root of the evil that has drivea 
so many from the turf, hundreds would return to then- fa- 
vourite pursuit, and then should we see the palmy days of 
racing return also, and our race-courses be, as in days gone 
by, thronged with the aristocracy of the country, instead 
of being infested by the dregs of society. 

It is often said that racing has a tendency to encourage 
gambling and betting. Doubtless it is one of the hundred 
means by which betting may be effected, but the one by 
no means follows as a necessary accompaniment to the 
other; and I strongly suspect that if the germ of betting is 
firmly rooted in the mind of any man, bet he will on 
something ; so it little matters whether he loses his money 
on the race-course or at the hazard-table. I can bring for- 
ward a case tolerably illustrative of this. 

When I first put on a red coat (1 mean a military onej 
it was in a militia regiment. Among the members of our 
mess were two young men who were in no way addicted 
to racing or to any kind of field sports, and who, if they 
attended a race meeting, went to see the crowd, and cared 
not a pin for the racing. Now in these so strong was the 
mania for gambling, that in one way or other they were 
constantly at it. Billiards was their chief pursuit; but 
even that most gentleman-like and intellectual game pitch- 
and-hustle helped to pass the time from parade to mess 
hour: whist then took its turn; and finally a little chicken 
hazard in their rooms closed tjie evening. After a time, 
a new freak seized them: this was to get the old corks 
from the mess-vvaiter: each took one, and after thro win j^ 
them into the river, they stationed themselves on the 
bridge, and the cork that fii'st appeared beyond the arch 
won. This took wonderfully, and they were joined by 
many more, of which number I was fool enough to make 
one, and proposed in lieu of matches to make up sweep- 
stakes. This was carried unanimously. I then proposed, 
instead of racing corks, to substitute racing bottles, and 
this was also carried neni. con. Each tied his colour 
round the neck of his bottle, and some nine or ten started' 
— 2s. 6d. entrance. As w^e found, however, that one of 
the p.irty was decidedly more lucky than the rest, and that. 



EXPENSES OF RACE HORSES DEFINABLE. 27 

in short, he generally won the stakes, it struck me there 
might be something in the bottle, as well as in the luck; 
so 1 examined it privately, and found that both the shape 
and weight of the successful bottle were very different from 
the others. I took the hint, and after looking over some 
hundreds at a wine merchant's, selected one that looked to 
me like a fast one — thin as paper, light as a feather, and 
very conically shaped. I started this the next day, and 
won in a canter by twenty lengths; won again, and again; 
in short, the late v/inning bottle was Meux's horse and 
dray to the American trotter Confidence and a match cart. 
After a time, some one smoked the thing, and it was de- 
cided that my bottle should not be allowed to start again. 
Relying however on shape and make, I proposed a Handi- 
cap, agreeing that my bottle and the late winning one (which 
nearly always came in second) should each carry weight 
to bring them to that of the others. I started, and again 
shape and make did the thing. They then wanted to add 
to my weight; but, knowing what weight does, I backed 
out — as some others would have been wise had they done 
when they backed Hyllus, forgetting, with the weight put 
on him, the length he had to go.* Our bottle-racing was 
soon given up; not so the gambling. Of these two fine 
young men, one terminated his existence after losing to an 
enormous amount in the Palais Royal; the other lost the 
whole of his fortune, went abroad, and died of fever. 

These and many more instances that have come under my 
notice make me shudder when I see a young man betting 
high, and betting with men who are sure in the long run 
to strip him of every feather. The same feeling makes 
me execrate the very name of those who will not let us en- 
joy a noble sport without by every means in their power 
rendering it subservient to their own designs and nefari- 
ous purposes. As to the expense of racing, it is very 
easily defined. That of keeping a horse in a public train- 
ing stable, every man who has race-horses in them knows: 
they will be pretty much the same one year as another: 
the expense of the entrances for different stakes are also 

* At Wolverhampton races, for the Holy oak Stakes, Hyllus carried 9 st. 6 
lb,, twice round and a dislaiue. thereby giving Retriever, the winner, 23 lb., both 

C}T3. 



S8 UTRUM HORUM MAVIS ACCIPE. 

known; so no man can at all events be ruined suddenly by 
keeping race-horses if he does not bet. if he is foolish 
enough to incur an expense of 1000/. a-year, when he can- 
not aiford to pay 200/., he does it with his eyes open. 
Probably his other expenses are about in the same ratio: 
still, when he is ruined, the poor race-horses are sure to 
come in for all the odium. 

Let us suppose two sensible young men of fortune, on 
commencing life, each selecting his favourite pursuit — the 
one takes to fox-hunting, the other to keeping race-horses. 
We will say the general expense of a pack of fox-hounds 
is 1400/. per annum, which is, I should think (take England 
throughout) about a fair average, and we will allow the 
other to lay aside 1400/. a-year for his race-horse expenses. 
Now we are quite sure the fox-hounds will bring no further 
return than the amusement they afford, nor does the owner 
expect it. The other spends the same sum in the keep, 
travelling expenses, entries, and riders for his horses: if he 
never wins a race, he is only in the same situation as the 
owner of the fox-hounds; but he must be a most unlucky 
wight indeed if this is the case. In fact, he cannot but 
win some of his expenses back: with moderate luck and 
moderate judgment he may cover them all; and if his judg- 
ment and good luck are in the ascendant, he may make 
money. 1 grant, as I have said before, that few do so; but 
of those who keep race-horses, there are numbers who 
have no judgment at all, many who have but little, and not 
one in fifty whose judgment is really good. This is one 
reason why so few make their horses pay. 

There are two things a man should well consider before 
he ventures on the turf: the one is, has he capital to stand 
a season or two of ill luck? for be he on the whole as lucky 
as he will, this will in its turn happen. Thus, if his first 
year happens to be an unlucky one, if he cannot stand this, 
and wait till his turn comes round, he is swamped from 
want of capital — by no means an uncommon thing. The 
next and equally important thing to be well looked into is, 
is he quite sure he possesses steadiness and nerve enough 
to resist the temptation to bet heavily? If he has not these 
two requisites, for the sake of himself and the feelings of 
his friends let him keep from the turf, for it will be all but 



PRO BONO PUBLICO. 29 

certain ruin. If he possesses both these requisites, let him 
begin keeping race-horses as soon as he likes — tliey will 
do him no more harm than any other expensive pursuit. 

I have ventured in these few pages to give my impres- 
sions on some parts of racing affairs. That they may not 
be perfectly correct is doubtless the case; but take them 
as a whole, however feebly expressed, they are founded on 
fact and truth, and as such may be in some slight degree use- 
ful to the very young and the very unwary. If 1 have 
only brightened one spark of indignation in the breasts of 
men of honour against the class of pests I have alluded to, 
1 have done something: if among the thousand who could 
handle the subject so much better than I have done, I can 
induce one to take up his pen in the same cause, I have 
done a great deal : and if this should eventually tend to 
the driving these harpies back to the insignificance from 
which they sprung, it would indeed be a glorious achieve- 
ment. Then and not till then will racing again become a 
harmless and exhilarating amusement to the public, a bene- 
fit to the country, a manly and national sport, the pride 
and glory of Englishmen. 



80 



OPINIONS ON CRUELTY. 

" Cruel or not cruel ? that's the question." 

That there can be a shadow of doubt as to what is or 
is not cruel may at first appear as a perfectly absurd idea. 
It is laconically remarked in the play oi John Bull, "Jus- 
tice is justice, Mr. Thornbury." This is self-evident, and 
that cruelty is cruelty is equally certain. Still, what is 
cruelty to a particular object is not quite so easily defined 
as it may be supposed to be. An atrocious act of barbari- 
ty can admit of but one construction, and can excite but 
one feeling in any commonly well-regulated mind, and that 
feeling must be one of unmitigated abhorrence and disgust. 
That there are stages of cruelty we learn so long ago as 
the time of Hogarth, and that those stages are still exhibit- 
ed and practised, even in these days of refinement, our 
every day's experience and observation are quite sufiicient 
evidence. Many things are, however, daily done, and 
others left undone, by which acts of cruelty are inflicted 
both by commission and omission where none were really 
intended; and at the same time many things are done that 
bear the appearance of cruelty that really cannot admit of 
such a construction when properly investigated. 

I regret to say, I consider that in this country the horse 
is more subject to cruelty and ill-usage than any other in- 
digenous animal we possess. I do not except even that 
ill-used animal the ass — for Jack is rather a difficult gen- 
tleman to understand and appreciate. I am a devoted 
friend to all animals, and to Jack among the number. \n 
an ordinary way he certainly gets coarser fare and harder 
blows than the horse; but as to his fare, it is well known 
he would leave the hay of the race-horse for the first this- 
tle he could get hold of; and as to the blows, I must in 
candour allow that in very many cases it"sarves him right." 
That there is a difference in the dispositions of these ani- 
mals is beyond doubt, but much less so than in perhaps 



ENGLISH DONKIES AND GERMAN POST BOYS. 31 

those of most other animals that come under our immediate 
observation. With a sluggish one, feed him as you may, 
work him as little as you may, he will prefer having his 
sides and quarters visited by an ash plant in the hands of 
an athletic savage, to accelerating his wonted pace; and 
should those strokes be applied with the rapidity of a 
mountebank playing on a salt-box, a twist to the right or 
left of his nether parts is generally the only result. Per- 
haps he goes upon the principle of the schoolboy: "If I 
learn A, which I could soon do, they'll make me learn B 
and all the cross row;" so Jack concludes that if he evinced 
his perfect understanding of these hints by quickenino- 
his walk, a trot would then be demanded, and this he con- 
siders "a consummation devoutly" to be avoided. I am 
quite willing to agree with Sterne, that " with an ass one 
might converse for ever:" so one might with a German 
postillion: but whoever has had the gratification of riding 
behind these imperturbable animals must have found, that, 
converse as long as you will, you will persuade neither the 
one nor the other to quicken his progression. If we wan- 
tonly put any two animals to the same degree of pain, the 
atrocity of the act is as great in the one case as in the 
other, and of course the suffering is equal to the animals: 
but as Jack prefers being bastinadoed to mending his pace, 
and the horse does not, it must be evident that they do 
not endure the same degree of pain from the same mode of 
punishment, though to a loystander the brutality of the driver 
might appear the same whether applied to the horse or the 
ass. Still in point of fact the quantum of cruelty in the 
two cases is very disproportionate, and is some proof that 
we may in many instances be misled in our estimation of 
cruelty by the appearance of it; whereas, on the other 
hand, many acts of absolute cruelty are daily practised 
without the suffering object of them exciting the slightest 
sympathy or commiseration. 

In reference to German postillions, I must in justice 
mention an anecdote of one of these really queer fellows 
that did so much honour to his heart and feelings, that, 
in compliment to his nation, it ought not to be omitted. 
A young friend of mine, who had been accustomed to four 
merry English posters and English post-boys (the gene- 



3^ THE AUTHOR IN TROUBLE. 

rality of whom, to their eternal infamy be it spoken, would 
at any time risk killing their horses for an extra five shil- 
lings,) was travelling in Germany, and had paid the pos- 
tillions with his accustomed English profusion. He got 
by this extra thanks and extra bows; but an extra mile 
within the hour was out of the question; so he determined 
the next stage to give the men as little as he possibly 
could; did so, and told them why he did so: they merely 
shrug2;ed their shoulders a little higher than usual. Now 
in England, from such bad pay being told to the new pos- 
tillions, he would have travelled the next stage about the 
pace of a hearse; But here he went on exactly at the 
same rate of going he had done before. My friend stopped 
the drivers, told them why he had paid with such par- 
simony, and now offered an additional bribe for additional 
speed. The reply he got from one of the postillions was 
this, and which he had the good sense and good feeling to 
appreciate : " He would be happy to oblige, but he might 
never have the honour to see Mynheer again; but he saw 
his cattle every day, and would not distress them." 

I could have hugged the fine fellow had I been there, 
though this mode of salutation is not much in my way. 
Show me an English post-boy who would have acted thus 
against his interest: show me any English coach-owner who 
would let feeling for his horses interfere with his interest: 
to such men I would say, but should say it without the 
hope of producing any effect, " Go, and do thou likewise :'* 
not they indeed. 

I am quite aware I am now about to tread on, if not for- 
bidden, at all events, very dangerous ground. 1 am going 
to accuse ladies of being very frequently the perpetrators, 
I should rather say instigators, of cruelty towards that ani- 
mal who conduces so much to their comfort and amuse- 
ment — namely, the horse. I can fancy I now hear myself 
exclaimed against by all parties as a perfect savage. 
^' What," exclaim the fairer part of the creation," can the 
monster mean by accusing us of cruelty?" — "What!" ex- 
claim equally loudl}^ the male part of my readers; "ac- 
cuse woman, lovely woman, of cruelty! — her, whose soft- 
ness alone humanizes our rugged nature! — her, whose ten- 
derness and smiles can alone by their fascination control 



APOLOGIZES. 33 

our coarser feelings and passions! — her, the bright or- 
nament of our homes, the projector of and participator 
in all those commendable and social virtues she alone 
has taught us to prize and to enjoy ! — her, whose tender- 
ness and love smooth the pillow in our sickness, and rob 
the gloomy pathway to eternity of so many of its ter- 
rors as to cause our chief regret to be the leaving so ten- 
der, so perfect a being behind us!" Reader, I love you 
for your enthusiasm in so bright a cause, and offer my 
humble tribute with equal devotion at so fair a shrine. I 
quite acquit ladies of l)eing the willing perpetrators of any 
acts of cruelty towards any animals (except their lovers;) 
but that horses do suffer in their cause is decidedly the case. 
Ladies, in a general way, are all delighted by fast travel- 
ling, no matter by what sort of vehicle. 1 dare say the in- 
ventor of that Brogdignagian butterfly, the aerial machine, 
had the gratification of the ladies in view when he pro- 
jected its construction: if so, 1 wish him every success, and 
trust the ladies will then go as fast as they can wish: it 
will save my poor friends (horses) many an aching limb. 
Now, whether the woman of rank and fortune travels in 
her own carriage with posters, or one in an humbler 
walk of life goes by the Manchester Telegraph, the inn 
that furnishes the boys who drive the fastest, or the coach 
that goes the fastest, is sure to be the inn and the coach 
most patronized by ladies. The former rolls along in her 
soft-lined well-hung carriage at an accelerated pace, stimu- 
lated by extra fees to the p'ost-boys. The horses, it is true, 
by dint of whip and spur, go the last mile as rapidly as the 
first. What their suffering may be during the stage or af- 
ter, never strikes the mind of its fair inmate: it never 
strikes her that to arrive at the end of twelve miles ten 
minutes the sooner, she is in point of fact inflicting wanton 
suffering on four naturally noble, generous, and unoffending 
animals. Once only oblige this lady to leave her carriage 
and stand by and see these poor victims unharnessed: let 
her see their raw and bleeding shoulders, their panting 
sides and distended nostrils, their blood-shot and glassy 
eyes, their limbs trembling with pain from the extra exer- 
tion she has thus wantonly occasioned them : let her see 
them two hours afterwards, when they have got cool, 



34 ANOTHER "age/' ^^TAGLIONI," OR "TANTIVY." 

standing with their heads resting; on the manger, too sick 
at heart and stomach to touch the food their exhausted 
frames so much need to render them capable of a repetition 
of the same suffering; this, nature is too far exhausted to 
allow them to take: let her see them stand motionless, un- 
less when they endeavour to procure some ease to their 
stiifened and aching limbs by changing their position: let 
her see this, of which she has no conception, and, if I know 
the mind or heart of woman, she would reprobate instead 
of encourage a repetition of the cause of such a scene. Nor 
let it be supposed that this scene is exaggerated: it is a state 
to which post-horses are always reduced when urged be- 
yond their strength. Fortunately this is not a case of 
every day occurrence, and only takes place when the cu- 
pidity of post-boys and post-masters induces them to com- 
ply with the unreasonable requests of particular persons; 
and these particular persons, we will hope for humanitj^'s 
sake, are but few: in the above case there cannot be two 
opinions as to its cruelty. 

Nor is the lady alluded to as travelling by the fast-coach 
exempt altogether from a share of that censure that becomes 
the due of every one, who, to gratify whim or caprice, oc- 
casions unnecessary pain to other objects, whether of the 
human or brute species; still she is not, like the former 
more favoured votary of fashion, the direct cause of the 
suffering she occasions. The latter is only one among 
hundreds who thoughtlessly enjoy a rapid mode of con- 
veyance, which they are not aware is only to be accom- 
plished by a vast deal of animal suffering. 

Reader, hast ever been in that abode of crippled horses, 
a coach-stable? Probably not: but I have in hundreds, and 
have there seen the direful havoc of fast-coaches. We 
must recollect that nothing but a high-couraged and high- 
bred horse is fit for a coach-horse (in these days.) Carry- 
ing this in our minds, we must not infer, because we see 
four horses going along without the constant application of 
the whip, that they are going at their ease: quite the ra- 
verse: they are probably even at that moment suffering 
much, either from distress by pace or bodilv infirmity; for 
we are not to expect such coaches as a Brighton Jlgc^ a 
Windsor Taglioni, or a Birmingham Tantivy (were) on 



35 

every road. Here horses were bought in their prime, 
were kept in the highest possible condition, and from their 
number were allowed proper intervals and days of rest. 
But, taking a long line of road, many brutes of coach- 
owners purchase only infirm horses, which by dint of pu- 
nishriient are made to do work for which they are really 
totally unfit. It is enough for their owner that they do it, 
their free and generous spirits inducing them to prefer the 
agony of going to that inflicted by the whip. But even 
here the suffering, great through it be, is slight in compa- 
rison to that endured by night-horses. Even coach-owners 
are ashamed to exhibit to the public the dreadful wrecks 
of horses turned over to the night-coaches. Here is suf- 
fering with a vengeance! Here the short docker can be 
used without exciting the cry of "shame" along the road. 
Horses with shoulders where there are deep-seated wounds, 
in which without any exaggeration half an orange may be 
buried, are here worked: here also are to be found others 
with legs in that state that would call at once for the inter- 
ference of the Society for the Suppression of Cruelty if ex- 
hibited in open day. If that Society want full occupation 
for their truly meritorious exertions, let me recommend 
them to make a tour of the fast-coach night-stables. This 
would some years since have been, I allow, an Augean task: 
now, fortunately for horses, night-coaches are scarce. No 
class of men (speaking of them of course in a general way) 
have so little even of the commonest feelings of humani- 
ty towards horses as coach-masters, although it is by the ex- 
ertions of this very animal that they gain their livelihood: 
they regard the horse, the coach, and the harness precisely 
in the same light, and provided the whole come in safe and 
keep time, they have no more feeling for the unfortunate 
horse than they have for the coach or harness: he brings 
the coach home; that is enough for them; at what expense 
of suffering he may do so they care not a pin. Should he 
become so weak or lame that continuing him at work would 
render him incurable, they kindly take him out of the team, 
not from the slightest compassion towards a faithful ser- 
vant, but because, if they did not do this, either death 
would ensue or he would be rendered useless to them. The 
resting him therefore is a consideration of pounds, shillings^ 



36 HUMANE CALCULATION. J 

and pence. But the probability of death does not in all 
cases procure for him an intermission of his labours. This 
depends wholly on his value, and how far, in case this com- 
mon act of humanity w^ere extended towards him, his sub- 
sequent labour would pay for the indulgence. If it is 
thought it would, he is rested; if not, he is worked on till 
he drops. Man}^ persons w^ould be much astonished to be 
told, while they were going along twelve miles an hour, 
that the entire team before the coach was not worth eigh- 
teen pounds, sometimes not so much; but such is the case. 
What must be the infirmities of four good sort of horses 
to bring them to this price, and what their sufferings la- 
bouring under such infirmities! Common reason tells u» 
what they must be. These are a few observations on their 
horses common in the mouth of coach-masters: — "It will 
be cheaper to luurk him to death than to be at any expense 
about him." This means, that if resting him for three 
months will cost three pounds, and by working him to death 
three pounds five shilHngs is to be got out of him, he is con- 
demned at once, and works till he drops. " It will pay better 
to work him to death than to sell him at that price.'^ That is, 
the price oflfered does not amount by five or ten shillings to 
the amount of labour still left in him; so he shares the fate 
of his companion above. "He is cheap to whip to death 
at the price;" or, "I only bought him to whip to death." 
This is a frequent remark when a low-priced horse is pur- 
chased in. He is wanted for a night-coach, or to work 
some temporary opposition : and this is said of some wreck of 
a splendid hunter, who has carried our aristocracy in the 
first flight over Leicestershire, and is the fate that awaits 
many who are now doing the same thing! Human Nature, 
thou art but a combination of selfishness and ingratitude at 
the very best ! 

To show I am tolerably correct in my estimation of the 
general tender mercies of coach-masters, I will mention an 
anecdote of one, who, in any thing but what regarded 
his horses, was a kind man. He was also a veterinary sur- 
geon. He once took me to see his horses on a line of road 
where he had a strong opposition that had been ruiminjy 
some months. I went into his stables, and such an exhibit 
lion of spectres of horses 1 never saw, all of a superior sort 



A FOX HUNTER OF THE RIGHT SORT. 37 

and breed — he knew too well to buy any other for such 
^rork — but such an accumulation of distress, such an assem- 
blage of the lame, the halt, and the blind, I never beheld, 
except afterwards in the field behind the stable: this was a 
complete knacker's yard. I do not pretend to finer feelings 
than^my neighbours, but I positively felt a sickening sensa- 
tion, and turned away from the revolting scene. On re- 
turning to the stables, one of his coaches came up, all the 
horses distressed enough; but one, a little mare, scarcely 
well bred enough for her place, was in a state of such dread- 
ful distress I pronounced her a dead one. "So did I," said 
her master, "the first time I saw her come in: she wnll blow 
in that way for these two hours; she has an oppression on 
her lungs, but is a very good mare. 1 know she is out of 
her place, but she will go on." Now here, because this ani- 
mal could go on, she was to be kept working in this dis- 
tress without exciting one feeling of compassion. Bad 
enough this, but not quite so bad as what follows. The up- 
coach came in, and the coachman was addressed as follows: 
— " I hear you was beat last night by three minutes; don't 
let this happen again if you can help it. I don't mind skin- 
ning a horse a-day, but keep your coach in front." Did not 
mind skinning ! That is, of course, killing by over-dis- 
tress a horse a-day. I never forgave him that speech, nor 
ever shall. Now, had he been determined not to be 
beaten, and had told his coachman so, adding to the "keep 
your coach in front," I will have double sets for you all 
along the line, I should have admired his spirit instead of 
detesting his barbarit}". 

Something like this "going in front," but with a very 
different spirit, w^as said by a Master of Fox-hounds to his 
huntsman, who rode nearly seventeen stone. "Never 
think of your horse or your pace; the moment you find 
one at all distressed, another shall be ready for you; only 
show my friends sport, and kill your foxes, and you shall 
have a fresh horse every three fields if you want him." 
This was something like: he was really in all things a 
noble fellow, and, as was said of King Charles, "enjoyed 
his girl and bottle, and got mellow, and (mind) kept cem- 
pany with gentlemen." 

1 know the answer coach-owners would make, and I 
4 



38 JOBS. 

cannot gainsay the truth of it. " The public like to go 
fast, and at the per mileage we charge as fares we cannot 
get a coach along at a fast pace without the cruelty we 
are accused of." I know this as well as they do; but 
with whom did this speed originate? Not with the pub- 
lic. Had all coaches continued to go eight miles an hour, 
there would have been no patronising one more than ano- 
ther, and at the eight miles the public must have gone: 
but some coach-master struck out the idea that by going 
faster he should get a greater share of patronage than hi.& 
neighbour, and his neighbour was then forced to do the 
same. These two men perhaps horsed their coaches in so 
superior a manner that the work could be done in the time 
without any cruelty to their stock, and here the public 
gained a justifiable advantage: but then the man who- 
horsed his coach badly found it necessary to keep the 
same time, and here the cruelty began. Again, the never- 
to-be-satisfied greediness of coach-owners went to work,, 
and some one, who had hitherto done his work well, began 
by lowering his fares to endeavour ta again supplant his. 
neighbour. What was the consequence? To make it pay 
at the lower fares, he must diminish his expenses: fewer 
and less able horses were used ; and others followed hi.^' 
example, till it amounted to this, that either money could 
not be got, or it must be got by the cruelties I have truly, 
however imperfectly, represented. Coaching is, however, 
nearly done up, therefore my remarks on the cruelties 
practised on horses in this way shall conclude here. 

Hide me, my good genius, in impenetrable obscurity ;, 
advocate my cause, ye lovers af fair truth, while I avow 
my pity for those pitiable animals, a pair of horses jobbeil 
by a single lady during the Ltondon season. — " Massa here, 
Massa there, Massa every where," is fully exemplified in 
the perpetual appearanceof the jobs — " thej^ are only jobs:*' 
so the usual work of a twelvemonth is to be got out of 
them during the time tliey are engaged for. If they are 
kept in the jobmaster's stable, they stand some chance of 
fair play, because, if they have done a full day's work, 
another pair are sulj^stituted for the theatre, concert, or 
party at night: but if kept in the lady's own stable, under 
her control^ and their work measiu'ed by lier judgment. 



TABLE TALK. 39 

and conscience (in this particular.) They catch it in every- 
way. Ladies are not very apt to lend their oivn horses and 
carriage to each other, hut it is really wonderful how kind, 
good-natured, and considerate a pair of johs render them, 
as the following arrangement and dialogue show: — 

"Poor Mrs. Formerdays! she was always used to her 
carriage till lately; it would be but kind to send the 
carriage to fetch her.'' " Poor Mrs. So-and-so is really 
ill; it would be a great treat to her to get an airing. We 
shall be three hours at the exhibition to-morrow; we can 
send her the carriage while we are there; it can then 
fetch us, and we shall have plenty of time to go into the 
City. We can then drive round by Hampstead, call on 
Miss Spinster, get into the Park by five, and have an 
hour's drive there before we go home to dress ; and as the 
horses will only then have to take us to Mrs. Feed-us- all's 
to dinner, and to Lady Lovelight's rout, and fetch us 
home, we can manage to send them to Mrs. So-and-so 
nicely, and much better than when we want more of them 
ourselves." — Perhaps, reader, you will agree with me that 
for a light day's work this will do. 

"My dear Mrs. Flatterwell," said Mrs. Heartall to her 
visiter, " who do you think I have invited to meet you at 
dinner to-morrow?" 

Mrs. Flatterwell : " Of course I don't know, but some 
delightful aofreeable creature I am sure, if she is a friend of 
yours; your friends all are so, my poor self excepted," 

Mrs. Heartall: "Oh, you flatterer! Well, then, I have 
asked that dear Mrs. Feel-our-frowns that we used to ad- 
mire so much ivhen she drove those beautiful grays!" 

Mrs. Flatterwell: "You see I was quite right, but I 
thought you had not visited her since that dreadful loss of 
property she met with." 

Mrs. Heartall: "Why, my dear, I will tell you how 
this arose. You know till lately I always kept my own 
horses, and when, poor dear thing, she was obliged to 
give up her carriage, being a very, very old friend, and 
having received a ojreat deal of kindness from her when I 
was a girl, whenever I invited her I was forced to send 
my horses for her, for it is not flattering to see No. 527 
drive up to one's door; so in pity to my poor horses I 



40 "a fellow feeling makes one wondrous kind. 

was obliged to cut her; but now, as I job horses while I 
am ill town, it does not matter, I can always send for her, 
and send her home.'^ 

Who would not be a friend or even one of a pair of 
jobs to a woman whose feelings were of so high a tone? 
Reader, didst never meet amid a certain clique one pos- 
sessed of such? Perhaps not. I can only say one of my 
family, mentioned here as Mrs. Feel-our-frowns, did, and 
I here have given the true anecdote. 

Let the charmino; Miss Bobbinet condescend to accom- 
pany the ever-fascinating Mr. Staytape in a gig to dine at 
Richmond, what would she think of him if he crawled 
along eight miles an hour, allowing themselves to be 
passed on the road — would she not think him a pitiful 
fellow? The whole pleasure of the thing would be de- 
stroyed; while, on the contrary, he rises in her estimation 
every time he gives others, as they jointly call it, the go- 
by, the rapidity in their estimation showing the superi- 
ority of the equipage. The feathers fly backwards as if 
in derision of those left behind; the showy and many- 
coloured shawl flutters in emulation of the plumes, and 
the ribbons in interposition rustle with pride and delight 
— for who ever saw an underbred female properly dressed 
in an open carriage of any sort? The Hon. Mrs. A. 
wears such a dress in her britzka — why should not Miss 
Bobbinet wear the same in a hired gig? 

But though, from the Countess to the counter-girl, they 
must go fast, I give them full credit for not believing, or 
rather thinking, whether they go eight miles an hour or 
fifteen, that horses suffer from it. Ladies are a bad judge 
of pace: they know if they are going fast, but do not know 
how fast they are going. "Women are bad judges of 
pace, my good fellow," said a friend of mine to me, whose 
pretty and really amiable little wife had spent in two 
months in London the annual amount of their income. 

In the hope of in some degree diverting the anger of 
ladies from what I have written, I do cheerfully and con- 
fidently assert my belief, that though horses unquestion- 
ably suffer much in their service, it in almost all cases 
proceeds from their want of knowledge of what occasions 
distress and suffering to them. Women, of all created 



"HE JESTS AT SCARS THAT NEVER FELt/' ETC. 41 

beings, are in every sense of the word the most single- 
minded, and least selfish. Man will rarely sacrifice his 
interest or comfort for Woman; Woman constantly does 
hers for Man: it seems one of the attributes of her nature 
to sacrifice self for others: }^et from thoughtlessness will 
the same fair being keep her servants and horses waiting 
in the most inclement night, while wasting, or worse than 
wasting, her time in listening to the persiflage of some 
coxcomb she inwardly despises. 

Some years since I was taken to a party by the rather 
giddy wife of a friend of mine, who always indulged her 
in furnishing her carriage with as fine a pair of horses as 
any woman in J^ondon drove: her carriage was ordered at 
one, intending to escape supper: it came: I informed her 
of it: " she w\as engaged the next quadrille:" it was danced, 
and her partner handed her down to supper: dancing 
was resumed; three, four o'clock came: then my fair 
friend, enveloped in cashmeres without number, came 
forth: the vestibule, staircase, and hall were warm as art 
could make them; but in passing from the door to the 
carriage, she remarked that this exposure to the cold was 
dreadful. It never, occurred to her that her horses and 
servants had been shivering at that door for three hours. 
Now I am quite ready to admit that a delicate female and 
horses and servants are quite different things; that use ac- 
customs the one to what would be death to the other; still, 
they all have feelings; and apportion the degree of hard- 
ship to the powers of endurance of each, and each will 
have the same share of suffering. Leave the horses and 
servants exposed to a freezing snow-storm, and the lady 
to a coid room without fire, they would probably suffer 
equally; and in retributive justice such punishment ought 
to be inflicted on her to teach her what she thus unthink- 
ingly inflicts on others. But she has probably never been 
exposed to real suffering of any sort, consequently cannot 
feel for what she never felt: she is in the position of the 
Princess, who, hearing that many of her father's sui)jccts 
were starving, declared that rather than absolutely starve 
she would eat bread and cheese. 

The Lady to whom I allude has unremittingly accused 
me of crucltv, because I have as unremittingly followed 

4* 



42 THE SPORTSMAN AT CONFESSION. 

my sporting propensities. That there is more or less of 
cruelty in all sports, or at least in most of them, no man 
of sense will dispute; that is, when sporting is carried on 
merely as a source of amusement. The Huntsman, the 
Jockey, the Steeple-chase Rider, the Bull-baiter, and Dog- 
fighter — even the Gentleman, if he is merely a " bookless 
sauntering youth, proud of the scut that dignifies his cap'' 
— will all deny that there is a particle of cruelty in any of 
their several occupations; wiiile the man of sense will 
candidly admit the charge, but may very justifiably add, 
that if we do not let a selfish thirst for amusement benumb 
or obliterate our feelings of humanity, the great source of 
amusement arising from sporting, and also the great advan- 
tages a large portion of the community derive from it, 
overbalance the trifling cruelty we inflict in its pursuit: 
and this is the only true state of the case. No man can 
attempt to deny that to turn out a stag merely for the 
pleasure of hunting him is gratifying ourselves at the ex- 
pense of a harmless animal; it would be folly to deny it: 
still I hunted seven seasons with stag-hounds, and must 
allow I never thought of any thing but keeping as near to 
the hounds as a sportsman ought to be. Foxes are ver- 
min, some will say, therefore we ought to kill them: "so 
Where's the cruelty?" This is all nonsense. If there is 
any cruelty in hunting, whether it be the fox or the hare, 
the thing is the same; and for this reason a gun would be 
a quicker mode of ridding ourselves of the one and of 
possessing the other. It is always bad policy to pertina- 
ciously defend a bad cause, or to attempt to controvert 
that which in itself is incontrovertible. Let us allow, 
therefore, like honest fellows, that there is some cruelty 
even in fox-hunting, but that it is so born with those of 
the right sort, and is so fascinating in its pursuit, that 
death would almost be preferable to resigning it. Then 
fill a bumper to fox-hunting, and I will be as vociferous in 
the three times three, and again, again, again, as the loud- 
est of you all. 

That fox or stag hunting is the frequent cause of a great 
deal of cruelty and suflfering to horses is quite clear; that 
is, when they get into certain hands. I have some years 
since seen the Hon. JNlr. P. with his horse spurred from 



A SUBJECT FOR MAZEPPA S PUNISHMENT. 43 

shoulder to flank, and that because, from want of cominon 
sense and judgment in the early part of the day, he had 
beaten a good horse before it was half over, if tills is 
not cruelty I do not know what is. Depend upon it the 
man who would be guilty of it towards his horse would 
be equally the brute to his wife or child. God forbid he 
should ever have the one or the other! Let no man tell 
me that enthusiasm in the chase is an excuse for premedi- 
tated and wanton cruelty. I maintain it to be wanton 
cruelty to butcher a good horse, when the only plea we 
can produce for so doing is a wish to see more of tiie end 
of the run, as if a man could never see another during his 
life. I can assert from experience and observation — and 
have had no small share of the former, or want of oppor- 
tunity for the latter in these matters — that I never knew 
one of these real butchering riders in the field who was 
not a brute in all his relative connexions with society. 
Let it not be supposed that I mean in any way to infer 
that riding straight to hounds necessarily involves cruelty 
to a hunter: quite the contrary. I am perfectly satisfied, 
and I am sure the best judges in these matters will agree 
with me, that the man who rides straightest to hounds, 
generally speaking, distresses his horse the least: he keeps 
near enough to watch the leading hound, or couple or two 
of hounds, by which he is enabled often to avail himself 
of sound ground instead of heavy, and perhaps cuts off the 
whole angle of a fifty or sixty-acre field. If hounds throw 
up their noses for only half a minute, he can give his 
horse the full benefit of that half minute; and half a mi- 
nute, ay ten seconds, is an age to a horse all but blown. 
When they hit it off, he is off with them; they don't gain 
an inch on him: he has no ground to make up, for he is 
ready to take his place. Long may he keep it both here 
and in his chase through life ! 

In riding to hounds, I always adopted one plan, which I 
generally found succeed tolerably well, and for the perusal 
of very young sportsmen, and still greater snobs than my- 
self, I here offer it as hints to such, but of course to such 
only. — If you wish to see the end of a run, always make 
your horse your first consideration. I mean by this, that, 
whatever fences you may have to take, whatever descrip- 



44 NOW COMES THE TUG OF WAR. 

tlon of ground you may have to ride over, or whatever 
may be the pace you find it necessary to go, always to th^ 
best of your judgment and ability make him do all this 
with the least possible expenditure of his animal powers 
and spirits; and ever keep in mind, that in the beginning 
of a run you never know where it may end, or how great 
a proportion of these powers and spirits may be called for. 
A horse is not like a steam-engine, for which, if you let 
all the steam off, you con take in fresh coke and water. 
Young hands are apt to forget this. The moment hounds 
are put into covert, throw away your eigar, if fancy or 
fashion has induced 3'ou to take one; and at once pro fc?n. 
give all your acquaintance the cut direct, and attend to 
your business — in other words, the hounds. If you are 
in a country you are acquainted with, and consequently 
know the point a fox generally makes for from this co- 
vert, place yourself so as not to prevent his breaking, but 
so as to f-ommand a view when he does break, if you 
are in a strange country, cock up your nose, like a deer 
when uncarted; ascertain the vvay the wind comes, and 
place yourself, as a sailor would say, to leeward of the co- 
vert: for, unless a fox has some favourite point to make — 
and he will then often face a hurricane — you will gene^ 
rally find you have done right. So soon as you see a cou- 
ple or two of hounds come out of covert in chase, if you 
have either viewed the fox or heard a "view-halloo'' in 
that direction, or hear the " Hark-hollow," or "Hark-for- 
ward, hark!" of the huntsman, you may be sure they are 
right. Lose not a moment: but get up to your hounds. 
If there is any wind, and that a side one, sink it; in other 
words, keep your hounds to windward of you. By this, 
if in a very enclosed country they should get out of your 
sight, you will hear them and every halloo of the hunts- 
man: and more than this, the chances are they will come 
down to you, instead of your having to get to them. And 
now, supposing hounds to be well settled to their fox, and 
you, from having attended to your business at the covert 
side, have a good place, remember every yard you lose 
your horse will have to recover; more horses are beat from 
being obliged to catch hounds than from laying with them, 
7^he moment you are over a fence into a field, cast an eyo 



THE CRIJJIS. 45 

to the one that is to take you out of it: if you see a more 
practicable part than another, and that not much out of 
your line, make for it; make for it at once, as no man 
who hesitates can ride well to hounds. Keep fast hold of 
your horse by the head, drive your feet well down in your 
stirrups, fix yourself, as much as to say " clear it or fall we 
go together," and put him at it as straight as a shot. Keep 
your eye always on the leading hound. If you find him 
only hesitate, take a pull at your horse: at the slightest 
check, pull up at once. The moment the scent is again hit, 
be off as quick as the hounds: in short, lay with them, and 
sail away as long as you can. If you find your horse 
getting blown, pull him off his pace; it is the only chance 
you have: he will probably shortly recover: but if you 
persevere, you will beat him in two fields: when it is 
" bellows to mend," you must stop to mend them. If he 
does not recover, you will be sure you did right: he could 
not have gone on. Go home: you will save perhaps a 
really good hunter for another day, and will at all events 
have the satisfaction of feeling — if you have any feeling, 
which I hope you have — that you have not wantonly 
butchered a willing servant after he had done all that na- 
ture allowed him to do for you. A touch of the spurs 
may be frequently necessary to the best of horses at large 
fences; but when a willing good horse comes to that period 
of distress that he requires the application of them to get 
him along, it is quite time to leave off for that day. If we 
only look on our horses as machines, we all know it is quite 
wonderful what they can be made to do by the whip and 
spur when in the greatest distress: but the man who could 
find gratification in riding one in this state never ought to 
be enabled to ride another. If a horse is a good one, he 
will do all that can be fairly asked of him willingly: if he 
fails, we have either demanded too much of him, or he 
was perhaps not quite right on the particular day. If a 
horse frequently tires, sell him at once; he will do for 
many other purposes, though no hunter. It would be 
cruel and useless to punish the poor brute because nature 
had denied him stamina. If he is a bad unwilling one, 
sell him also; his proper place is the wheel of a coach, 
where the double-thong will teach him he must work as 



46 "MOyEY 31AKES THE MARE TO GO." 

well as his neidibours: he deserves it. This would not 
be cruelty. 

Let me most earnestl)^ beg it ma}' be clearly understood 
that the few hints I have here given on riding to hounds 
are merely intended for young sportsmen, or men who, as 
I did, consider themselves mounted with five horses. 
Men who keep fifteen for their own riding can of course 
take what liberties they like with them, and, having a 
fresh horse or two out, can, if they think there is any 
merit in the thing, take the steel out of them in half an 
hour — no difficult matter, let me say. I am, however, not 
quite sure they could at the finish give a clearer account 
of the run than their less opulent, and therefore, from ne- 
cessity, more considerate brother sportsmen. " Money," 
the old saying says, "makes the mare to go:" so it does 
the horse; but it w^ill not make him go beyond his powers, 
or longer or better than otlier men's horses: if it could, 
poor devils like myself would have no business fox-hunt- 
ing: but as it will not, "a hunting we will go, a hunting 
we will go," as long as we can; at least 1 will. 

Having said this much of glorious fox-hunting, as I am 
writing my crude ideas of what is and what is not cruelty 
to animals, I now come to hare hunting. Is it not cruel 
to hunt a poor hare to death? Certainly it is cruel — very 
cruel, if the term pleases better — and in point of fact cruel 
it is. I always like to see things properly defined. The 
only answer, I should perhaps say palliation, to be offered 
is the one I have before given; namely, the pleasure it 
affords to many is an excuse for the pain we inflict on one 
animal; for in hare- hunting, the hare only suffers: a horse, 
if in any condition, cannot, unless he gets his death from 
cold. If I dare flatter myself that what I write will be 
read by man}', I should feel my ears tingle; for I should 
have every hare-hunter on my devoted head. I am no 
thistle-whipper myself, never was, never had patience for 
it; but I am quite free to admit that if a man wishes to 
really see hunting, he will see more of it in one month 
with harriers than in ten with fox-hounds, particularly in 
the present style of fox-hunting. We have become a set 
of Steeple-chase riders with a fox and hounds before usj 
but real hunting is over, unless with some "fine old En- 



INIEN .MAKE THE 3I0.\EY GO. 47 

glish Gentleman," if he is to be found, who keeps his 
liounds for hunting sake, his own amusement, and that of 
his immediate friends and neighbours. After all, hunting 
is but an amusement; and whether followed in one wa}^ 
or the other, if we are amused the end is answered: but if 
we want to see hunting, or are old-fashioned enough to 
like the music of hounds, we can get it now only by going 
with harriers, or getting up in the morning and going cub- 
hunting. "Hark on the drag I hear," is no more. Dis- 
play at the "meet" is the first desideratum; riding in the 
first flight in the chase, the second. At such a meet, lie 
who, as I have just done, would be bold enough to talk 
about hounds hunting or the music of hounds, would be 
considered as great a Goth as the man detected in attend- 
ing to the music of an Opera. Some people — of course 
they must be "people that nobody knows" — may say, if 
you care not about hunting or music, why go hunting or to 
the Opera? Unenlightened s.ivai^es! you migh.t as well ask 
why the hopeful youth wlio d — s the parade or field-dity 
goes into the Army. Strip the jacket, shako, sabretache, 
and other accoutrements of their lace — make the dress to 
look like service and service only — infanduin puer^ tl)e 
Cornet's ^'occupation's gone" at once: he would quit the 
Army in disgust. So, let " meets" be at seven instead of 
eleven, and consequently let a few fashionable men make 
some other amusement fashionable, Billesdon and Kirby 
Gate would only boast of perhaps fifty sportsmen: let the 
boxes at the Opera be so constructed as to render its visit- 
ants invisible, and the stage only to be seen from them, 
the house would in one month be like " some banquet 
hall deserted." To suppose men hunt from the love of 
hunting, frequent the Opera from the love of music, or 
enter the Army from love of a soldier's life, are all ideas 
too monstrous to be entertained by any man who is not a 
subject for the Hanwell Asylum. 

Racing I have heard anathematized by men who discou- 
rage it as the height of cruelty. This is quite wrong. 
That there is a certain degree of cruelty practised in this 
as well as in all the pursuits of sporting men, we must not 
deny: but 1 should say, that, gencrallv speaking, less takes 
place in this than m ujost sports. Doubtless the labours of 



48 HINTS TO YOUNG JOCKEYS. 

the race-horse in fall work, are great and severe, and a horse 
under the hands of the chifneys is pretty sure of getting 
his full dose of it. But we must recollect he is brought to 
this by degrees, and when he comes to the post, though he 
may generally expect severe exertion and sometimes se- 
vere punishment, both the one and the other are of very 
short duration, and the latter, if a good and willing horse, 
is only of very rare occurrence. J am quite aware that 
some horses require "getting along all the way." But this 
is not punishment, and such horses are but a few among 
the many; and I am satisfied many racing men will agree 
with me that if we could contrive to give most jockeys 
their whip and spurs when a hundred yards from home, 
and not till then, it would be all the better; for 1 venture 
to assert, without fear of contradiction, that an early appli- 
cation of either loses by far a greater number of races than 
ever were won by it, and, in more cases than are supposed, 
produce a shortened instead of a lengthened stride. Ex- 
perienced jockeys know this, and seldom use their whip 
but as a last resource: young ones, and particularly gen- 
tlemen jocks, too often make it tlieir first. Whether wanted 
or not, this does make racing cruelty. I can only say, if I 
was a race-liorsc, I would rather be ridden ten races by 
such men as the Chifneys, Robinsons, Scots, Days, and many 
others, severe as they can be, than be ridden once by tlie 
generality of gentlemen or ordinary jocks. With the first, 
I should be certain of not being punished unless I deserved 
it, or necessity compelled them to it: with the latter, I 
should be almost sure of it, perhaps a quarter of a mile from 
home, unless absolutely in front,and indeed sometimes then. 
If we were always to flog a boy when he is first put up to 
ride, if he dared strike his horse when more than half dis- 
tance from the w4nning-post, nine times out of ten he would 
have deserved it, and it would make a jockey of him. As 
to the gentlemen jocks, if there were ten of them, I should 
like to flog at least nine before thej^ start merely as a re- 
minder to use more head, more hands, more patience, and 
bss whip during the race. They would improve much 
under the discipline: but as they would not probably sub- 
mit to be severely whipped, I suppose their poor horses 
must. Such men as Lord Howth^ General Gilbert, Cap- 



"A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS." 40 

tain Pcttat, Mr. Kent, Mr. White, and some others, are 
exceptions: they are of course exchided from my flogging 
speculation; but by all means give it to scores of others I 
could name co?i amorc — that is, if you can! This would 
be justice — not cruelty. 

Steeple-racing is a description of sport for which we are 
chiefly indebted to Ireland for its introduction hqre; and 
certainly if a medium had been wanting through which 
robbery could be effected with more impunity and less 
chance of detection than by any other mode of racitig^ our 
debt of obligation to the sister isle is very heavy indeed^ 
Racing in the old and legitimate way was, is, and probably 
ever will be, bad enough in this particular; but here a good 
deal of nice tact and contrivance is wanting to bring tlie 
thing off without being too glaring; and, even then, detec- 
tion very often, and suspicion always, follows the perpe- 
trators. But steeple-racing opens a fieJd to the veriest 
bungler in the art of gentleman-like robbery and rascalit}^ 
How any man in his senses can sport his money on such 
an event (unless he is one of a gang) strikes me with per- 
fect astonishment, for here all judgment, all knowledge of 
the relative powers of horses, all calculation on former 
running is thrown away. The casualties incident to steeple- 
racing set all this at defiance, even supposing that all was 
intended (which it seldom or ever is) to be fair. In racing 
over the course, good judgment will in the long run stand 
our friend: here the casualties are, in comparison with 
steeple-racing, as one to a hundred. Many people imagine 
that jockeys are constantly paid to lose races; but this is 
by no means the case: that it sometimes occurs is doubt- 
less the fact; but when it docs, it is in some leather-plating 
concern, and among fourth or fifth rate riders, who have no 
character to lose; for in all great races no men are put on 
any of the horses that are considered as having a chance, 
but who are, generally speaking, men of principle and cha- 
racter, and who would not lose a race purposely if directed 
or even bribed to do so. But supposing there may be those 
among such men as would do this, the fact is, it is not left 
to ihem to lose. If it is intended their horse shall not 
win, the race is lost before they mount him. A much 
surer game is played tlian trusting to their word that they 
5 



50 "EQUAL TO BOTH, AND ARMED FOR EITHER FIELD."' 

would lase, or their nian?ip;ement to do so: their horse is 
made so safe that all the jockeyship in the world could not 
make him win. Thus even here the best judgment is beat 
by rascality. What chance then has a man betting on a 
steeple-race, when the same thing is constantly done, where 
all sorts of excuses may be made for the best horse being 
nowhere, and where, if you do find a jock willing to enter 
into your plans, he may lose in fifty \vays without the- 
slightest suspicion being attached to his conduct, or fault 
found with his riding? In Ireland, the steeple-races were 
generally about two miles, and there a great portion of the 
race was seen;, but as we mercifully always make it four, 
and sometimes more, at least three miles of it are run ou^ 
of sight, or at all events at such a distance off that we cat> 
just say, " There they go," or "That's them by the wood 
yonder/' Some people tell me. as an excuse for this sense- 
less kind of racing, that it encourages the breed of superior 
horses. Nonsense. Is it to be supposed that any man 
will ever breed under the idea of v/inning a steeple-race? 
Are not men of large fortune, who give their hundred, hun- 
dred-and-fifties, and two hundred for hunters, sufficient to 
encourage the breed of superior horses? I will tell these 
persons what steeple-racing does encourage. It induces 
certain men to be always on the look-out among breeders, 
farmers, gentlemen's studs, &c., for something they consider 
to possess first-rate steeple-racing properties, to buy him at 
any price, to bring him out, lose a race or two, get heavy 
odds against him for some good thing, then, much to the 
surprise of most people, win it, win three or four of the 
best of these good stakes, and then, when their horse is in 
the full confidence of their friends and the public, rob both 
by again losing — of course only by some pretended acci- 
dental circumstance. This in no shape alters public opinion 
as to the horse's capabilities, or his owner's wish to have 
won. He is again entered for another stake, goes on well 
up to the time, never w^as better or more fit to go. The 
pot is now put on in good earnest, for this hocussing can- 
not last for ever with the same horse; every bet that can 
he got on is taken: of course he loses, so docs every one 
but his own party. It will be now said he has a leg, is 
laid on the shelf till some opportunity is ripe to bring him 



EST MODUS IN REBUS. 51 

fout again, when, if intended to lose, he is "quite recovered," 
is "if any thing better than ever;" he goes, and loses: or, 
taking the other tack, he is stated to he regularly stumped 
up, but his owner is determined to give him one more %. 
He nov/ goes, and wins as it suits his party's hook. Suc- 
cess and a halter to them ! for, to fill the pockets of such a 
set, are some of the best horses the world produces sacri- 
ficed, and butchered to make them win if wanted to win, 
and dosed, to save appearances, when intended to lose. 

If steeple-racing was merely a race of two or three miles 
over a fair hunting line of country, it would perhaps be as 
good an amusement as any other race, with no more suffer- 
ing to the horses engaged in it, and would in fact be a 
pretty sight. Why is it always made four, and often more 
miles? For this reason: those who make it a profession, 
and get horses for this express purpose, have by this a bet- 
ter chance of winning. Why are five, six, and seven hun- 
dred guineas given for particular horses ^for this purpose? 
Not because they are superior as hunters for a gentleman's 
riding, but because they possess extraordinary qualifications 

for this purpose: and this purpose is . what? sport, or 

the pleasure of seeing the horse win? Not a bit: win or 
lose, the purpose is to cheat the public. This the public 
will say is cruel to them: I say it "serves them right:" 
they should not bet about these things. I am quite sure 
of one thing, it is an unnecessary and wanton cruelty to 
horses, and this does not serve them right. 

Matches against time is another precious mode of filling 
the pockets of a set of miscreants — robbing the public, and 
subjecting a noble animal often to suffering and punishment 
at which humanity shudders. Matches against time might 
take place without any undue practice of cruelty, if the suf- 
fering of the animial was (which \.\. never is) in such cases 
made any consideration. What he may be able to do with 
any ordinary suffering is not the calculation at all; but 
what extra-Qx^iwAXY suffering and e.T/rft-ordinary punish- 
ment may force him to perform is calculated upon; and 
here it becomes absolute and unqualified brutality — for 
brutality I always maintain it to be, where, for the sake of 
winning money, we subject any animal to such treatment. 
VV^/2 are fj-equently told " the mare was pulled up showing 



0'4 LEX TALIONIS. 

very little symptom of distress;" or 'Hhe horse came in 
quite fresh." Yes, I know wliat is meant by not "show- 
ing sjnnptoms of distress:" it means only that no symp- 
toms were sliown which indicated that death would ensue; 
and "quite fresh " means that the horse walked to his sta- 
ble without support, which in such exhibitions is not al- 
ways the case. To propose or undertake any match 
against time that it could be supposed any horse, or at all 
events a particular horse, could perform with common ex- 
ertion would in no way answer the purpose of those who 
make a business of such things: money could not be got 
on sufficient to make it worth thair while: but propose 
some feat that appears almost impossible, and then the pot 
can be made to boil. It is true it sometimes boils over: 
may it ever do so, and may its owners be put in it with a 
stout lid hermetically sealed! However, succeed or not, 
in performing such matches it rarely occurs that these un- 
natural exertions are made, and the animal does come in 
showing (or at all events feeling) no symptoms of distress. 
The perpetrators of them justly fear the execration of the 
public, consequently alwaj's maintain they were done with 
ease. I saw the conclusion of a match about three years 
ago. A horse known to be in no condition, a cripple, but 
thorough-bred, was backed to do a gallop-match of seventeen 
miles within the hour over one of the most hilly and dis- 
tressing roads (for a turnpike road) England could produce, 
two miles of which were at that time newly gravelled in 
the old way. He won, it is true; but ivhat a win! His 
shoulders, where he had been chiefly spurred, were in a 
perfect jelly of blood; his sinews had given way; the back 
of his pastern nearly touched the ground on being pulled 
up; and it was only by the support of several men that he 
was kept from falling, and thus got into a stable. To the 
disgrace of my country, be it said, his rider, who was also 
his owner, was allowed to remain with a whole skin. 
There is certainly a society for preventing cruelty to ani- 
mals ; but their laudable exertions are rendered all but use- 
less by the restrictions our feeling legislature puts on 
their power. The owner of this horse might have been 
fined 40s. ! What would he care when he made as many 
hundred by the match in bets and the match monev? If 



A MEIVCirUL MASTER. 53 

he could have been fined double his winnings, he would be 
careful in future how he publicly exercised hi'3 bratality. 
1 should like to have had him naked as his horse, ti^d io 
the pole of a carriage, made a kind of near-side wheeler of 
for ten miles, I would have taught him the full effects of 
a dravving-stroke with a double thong, and before I had 
done with him he should have been a perfect judge of 
what distress and punishment are to bear. 

I had locked up the preceding pages in my desk, intend- 
ing to add a few lines to them at my leisure, nor for months 
had I given them a thought, till the recent T^edford match 
of execrable notoriety recalled them to my recollection; 
and, singular enough! I had left off writing after mention- 
ing a match against time won by the very hero of the Bed- 
ford tragedy. I had given my opinion of the match I had 
alluded to, and in no very measured terms stated my ten- 
der wishes towards its perpetrator. I had mentioned no 
name, hoping he would take a lesson from its result, and 
by following his trade would in future gain a livelihood by 
more respectable means than acts of premeditated inhu- 
manity. But, as if "he meant to show the reed on which 
I leant" in forming such hopes of him, the Bedford match 
has not been the only one by many in which this same 
Burker of horses has been since engaged, nor is the pony 
the only one he has killed in his brutal vocation. 

It has been brought forward, in extenuation of the cruelty 
of the late match, that no whip was allowed to be used 
during its performance. This only makes the thing worse. 
So, because (as it turned out) the owner knew that such 
was the game and generous nature of the little animal, that 
he would go till exhausted nature could do no more rather 
than feel the whip, his merciless master could sit behind 
him, witness his sinking efforts, and only stop him .... 
when? why, when he found it impossible to win the match. 
We are told he had said, " if he found the pony was dis- 
tressed, he would pull up." He certainly did pull up 
when he was distressed — distressed enough, for he was vir- 
tually dying. But, supposing it could have been thought 
that, distressed as he was, he could have staggered on so as 
to have won the match, will any man believe ho would 
have been pulled up? No, not even those who own the 

5* 



54 FACTS ARE STUBBORN THINGS. 

enviable distinction of beinp; classed among Mr. Burke's 
friends would believe it. There is truly great humanity 
in stopping, or rather permitting, a wretched animal to 
stop, when he can go no longer! There is a wide differ- 
ence between pulling up a horse luhen he is distressed, and 
doing it so soon as we fmd he is so. Was this done here? 
No; the pony had been pulled along for miles in the se- 
verest distress. It is stated that Mr. Burke valued the 
pony highly, and was much annoyed at his death. I am 
quite willing to believe he was so: so he would have been 
had he lost a 50/. note. That he valued the pony highly 
was doubtless the case: he valued him, because from his 
extraordinary powers he had been and still was a source 
of profit to him: how far beyond this he valued him has 
been clearly shown — he drove hitn to death! Then Mr. 
Somebody-a-Vet talked about congestion of the lungs, of 
overloaded atmosphere, et cetera: the greatest truism he 
set forth was the verv scientific supposition, that had the 
pony remained in the stable he would not have died. Let 
me ask, whether, among the horses that worked the Bed- 
ford coach up and down on the same day, any particular 
mortality took place. I have not heard of any, and rather 
believe all these horses did their fair day's work, notwith- 
standing the state of the atmos})her€ on that day; nor do I 
believe one case of cono;estion of the lnnn;s occurred amono; 
the (say) forty horses working the coach up and down. It 
is worse than nonsense bringing forward such attempted 
excuses for what will admit of no excuse. Mr. Spring's 
opinion was then given as to how far he considered the 
pony as being in a state of distress. Now, by his own 
showing, it appears he has been present at many matches 
against time. People are seldom found voluntarily present 
at exhibitions from which they derive no pleasure: we may 
therefore lairly conclude that Mr. Spring does derive plea- 
sure from such matches, consequently becomes one of the 
clique. If so, his testimony relative to the humanity of 
the driver, or the distress of the animal, comes before us 
in a very questionable shape ; for it is just in these matters 
possible he may allow as great a latitude to his conscience 
as Mr. Burke himself. I mean no illiberal insinuation 
against Spring in a general way by this remark: he keeps 



AN EVERY DAY OCCURRENCE. 55 

a very respectable house, conducts it in a very respectable 
manner, and, ^'tbis present enterprise set oir bis bead,'^ 
and a participation in similar pursuits, is bimself a very 
respectable man. Tbinking tbus of bini, I would in all 
«j;ood feeling just bint, tbat attending to bis friends and cus- 
tomers, vvbo are always glad to see bim, will be to tbe ad- 
vantage of tbem and himself, and attending a little less to 
Mr. Burke and bis pursuits will increase tbe estimation in 
which our worthy landlord is held by those who wish bim 
well, or whose estimation is worth having. 

Reverting to tbe boast of tbe pony having been driven 
without a whip reminds me of an anecdote told of a noted 
coachman. He was for som.e reason or other taken off one 
coach to be put on another: be was told by tbe late coach- 
man of tbe latter that no man could get tbe first team be 
w^ould have to start with along, or, at all events, " thrash- 
ing in a barn was light work to driving them.'^ He made 
no reply, but contrived to get into tbe stable during the 
morning, and unobserved locked himself in with the afore- 
said team: he then took a broomstick, and belaboured each 
and all of tbem, shouting at them at tbe same time till they 
would have jumped through the wall, if they could, the 
moment be spoke to tbem. This done, be walked quietly 
out. On tbe team being put to the coach, they from habit 
took tbe thing as coolly as ever; sundry jokes passed on 
tbe new coachman; offers of extra whips, a shoulder to each 
wheel, and the late coachman presented his successor with 
a stout ash-wattle by way of an apprentice. Coachee took 
it all in good part, got on his box, and waited tbe signal. 
*' Right," cries the guard ; then at one word from the well- 
remembered voice, to tbe perfect astonishment of every 
one, off each horse bolted like a snipe just flushed. 
Tbe secret afterwards came out. .1 do not mean to 
assert tbat this kind of thing was practised on the pony; 
but I do say, that a voice tbat had often been followed by 
a severe stroke of the whip would have been quite sufli- 
cient (as the event proved) for so high-spirited an animal. 

Let me remind my readers, tbat there is also a way of 
punishing a horse by his mouth, to get him along — a vile 
and uncoacbmanlike practice, I allow, but sometimes re- 
sorted to. If a snatch at (or rather on) a horse's mouth 



56 "to make a wash would hardly stew a child.'' 

by means of the reins is alvva3^s followed by a few strokes 
of the whip, the horse very soon learns that the one is as 
much a signal to go on as the other; and both being a pu- 
nishment, he accelerates his speed in both cases to avoid it 
Thus we see that driving without a whip is no proof that 
a horse is not forced to cruel and unnatural exertion if a 
good one, and bad ones are never selected for such per- 
formances. 

We are told that Burke on ordinary occasions treats his 
horses kindly. 1 am not prepared to gainsay this, not be- 
ing conversant with his general habits; nor ever having 
had the opportunity of seeing his stable management, should 
1 be justified in giving any opinion of how his horses are 
treated: in that respect probably very well, as it is 
his interest to have them at all times prepared in a cer- 
tain degree for any match occasion may put in his 
way. 1 am not representing Mr. Burke as a demon 
who delights in cruelty for cruelty's sake; but where 
his interest is concerned, we have plenty of proof from 
various results that mercy would plead in vain. I am 
willing to allow it to be possible that in riding or driving 
a horse to death he may even experience some feelings of 
compunction; but it is a very poor excuse for the murderer 
that he is very sorry to cut our throats while he perseveres 
in doing so to gain our money; nor is it any excuse for 
this man that he feels sorry to torture a generous animal, 
while he does so merely from his accursed cupidity. That 
any man can be found to publicly or privately encourage 
him is a disgrace to human nature. When I say him, I 
mean his pursuits: I war not with the man, but with his 
disgusting and various cruelties. Above all other men, 
every true sportsman should set his face against them, and 
raise his voice to cry them down. We have quite enough 
to do to defend ourselves and our cause against the clamour 
that a set of twaddlers often raise against both. In the 
name of Sporting, then, let us not give them so fair a han- 
dle to lay hold of as detecting us in tolerating, much less 
in countenancing, useless and revolting barbarities. 

I remember seeing when a boy, on Hindhead Hill on 
the road to Portsmouth, a stone placed by the road-side, 
and engraved on it were nearly these words: "In detcsta- 



"FORBID IT, HEAVEN, THE HERMIT CRIED." 57 

tion of a barbarous murder committed on the body of an 
unknown sailor." I should like to see a similar stone put 
up somewhere on the Derby road, by subscription, stating 
it to be "In execration of a cruel match against time that 
took place on this road, 1844, when one of the best little 
animals of his day was driven to death by his inhuman 
master." It would be a lasting testimony of the good feel- 
ings of the inhabitants of the different towns, and prevent 
at least their road from ever being disgraced in future by 
such exhibitions; for twist it as you will, palliate it as you 
will, a most disgraceful and brutish exhibition it was, so, as 
Falstaff says, " there's an end of it.'' 

That the degree of distress horses undergo in matches 
against time is not always commensurate with the greatness 
of the undertaking is quite clear. What would be merely a 
good long breathing gallop to one horse, would be great 
distress to another. Speed, stamina, and condition, or, 
vice versa, the want of them, must always cause this. 
That such horses as Vivian, Lottery, The Nun, and many 
others of this class, could, when in proper form, do a gal- 
lop match of twenty miles within the hour with really 
very little distress, I am quite willing to admit; but such 
horses are not put to such things. First, they are too va- 
luable to be risked at it for only perhaps a hundred; and 
secondly, no money could be got on in such a match, for 
who would bet against them? If the owner of The Nun 
sold so game and good an animal, and she changed and 
changed hands till infirmity brought her value to fifty 
pounds, then she w^ould be caught up in a moment by 
some of these match-making gangs: then a bet would be 
made to do some feat that only extraordinary lasting qua- 
lities and game could accomplish; and then even on three 
legs no one knows what an animal like her, who will go 
under the whip, as she has often done, might not be made 
to accomplish: but would not any one worthy the name of 
man shudder at such an exhibition, and at such monsters 
as the instigators and encouragers of it? Yet such scenes 
do constantly take place, and, what is more, the owner of 
the winner is often cheered and lauded as if he had really 
performed some meritorious and heroic action! 

J have personally been accused by ladies of showing ^ 



58 SEEDS OP ARMS. 

<lisposition to cruelty, and even barbarity, because I have 
occasionally gone to see a prize-fight. This the}^ naturally 
consider as a most horrid exhibition: long may my fair 
countrywomen continue to think so! It is the natural 
■results of the tenderness of woman's nature. The dark- 
eyed daughters of Andalusia tell you, Quen im ha visto 
Sevllla no ha visto maraoi/la : so they say also of a bull 
iight. Now, though few men v/ho have seen such eyes 
have escaped their influence, however fascinating their 
truly lovely owners may be, their bare endurance, without 
their praises of a bull fight, would be a damper to the feel- 
ings of an Englishman in selecting them as wives. I there- 
fore gloryin the indignant glances called forth from English- 
women at the bare mention of a fight. That two gluttons 
after an hour's fighting are by no means pleasing objects 
to look upon, is quite clear; but 1 fully maintain that cru- 
elty has nothing on earth to do here, nor can I consider it 
follows that men who witness it have any cruelty in their 
disposition. If an unfortunate wretch was condemned to be 
beaten to death, or nearly so, as a punishment by an execu- 
tioner, I grant the man must be worse than brutish who could 
derive any gratification in witnessing so revolting a spectacle: 
but if two men prefer fighting as a mode of making money 
to any other, who has a right to interfere in their selection of 
occupation? Chacun a son gout; they have theirs; they 
have a right to have it: in fact, the cruelty would be in pre- 
venting their enjoying it. If two men, earning (which many 
of them can and some do) a comfortable living by other oc- 
<iupations, choose to quit them for two months whik in train- 
ing to fight, it is natural to conclude they prefer making 
money by this to their regular business. Why balk their 
inclinations? I do not see that they hurt any one but each 
other. I only wish, as Paddy would say, " they may both 
win," and as they so often " wisit the witling office in the 
ring," I hope when they do so at home they will find it 
well stored for themselves and their friends. I really hope 
my feelings are not more callous than those of my neigh- 
bours; but I confess in witnessing a prize fight, I admire 
the attitudes and tactics of the men, though, so far as they 
are concerned, I feel no more for them than I should for two 
isrocodiles fighting on the banks of the Nile, If some un- 



yrOST REVEREND, GRAVE, AND POTEST SIGNORS. 59 

fortunate fellow, who had no other means of p;etting food 
for hiniself and family, was induced to enter the prize ring 
to obtain those means, he would bean object of admiration 
and interest. I should feel every blow he got, and warm- 
ly wish him success: but if such men as Hammer Lane or 
Johnny Broome (two very respectable men in their way) 
choose to quit, the one his trade, the other his home, to 
fight, I can only say, if they both got a sound drubbing, 
they would get no pity from me; and, to do them both jus- 
tice, they would neither care about the drubbing one far^ 
thing, provided they won the tight for themselves and 
friends; and this they certainly would do, if they could un- 
der any circumstances. In short, speaking of prize fights- 
in a general way, if two fools by choice stand up to be 
knocked to pieces, it really would be an infringement on 
the boasted liberty of the subject to prevent them. I leave 
it to abler controversialists than I to decide how far in a 
national point of view the ring may have a prejudicial or 
beneficial effect on the conduct of the lower classes. I 
believe, as we are told in — 1 forget the play — '^ much may 
be said on both sides." I am no casuist; but really when 
men from inclination place themselves in a situation where 
they are certain to get more or less of a sound thrashing 
even if they win, we have a right to infer that all in all 
they like the thing, and I think 1 deserve the approval 
rather than the censure of ladies for my philanthropic 
feeling in going to see such men enjoy themselves. 

Bull-baiting, dog-fighting, bear and badger baiting, are 
all in themselves such atrocious acts of useless and wanton 
barbarity, that they have been at last put a stop to: that 
is, if attempted in public. I should, however, be extreme- 
ly sorry to be guilty of so glaring an act of injustice as to 
accuse our Legislature of having interfered with these 
gentleman-like amusements from any feelings of kindness 
or mercy towards the animals engaged in them ; for let 
any person from motives of humanity propose any act or 
any new law that has for its purpose the mere protection 
of animals from oppression and cruelty, his proposition 
will be certain to be met with not only neglect but ridi- 
cule and contempt: the collecting a crowd of idle persons 
together in the public highways, or on another's lands, is 



60 

what is objected to; and this would be objected to if the 
same crowd collected to see half a dozen dogs, bears, or 
badgers eating calf's foot jelly. The proposal to extend 
the prevention of dogs being used to carts in the country 
was at once cried down. If it was absolutely necessary to 
put a stop to the system in London, it certainly must have 
been considered a nuisance there, and a dangerous one. 
Now there might be perhaps more danger and nuisance oc- 
casioned by their use in London than elsewhere; but cer- 
tainly not to that extended degree as to make it advisable 
to prevent it there, and leave such densely populated 
towns as Bristol, Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, and 
lYjany others, subject to nearly the same dangers and an- 
noyances. If compassion to the animal, and to save him 
from ill-usage, bore any part in the consideration of those 
who stopped the system — which I do not believe it did — 
there is no more reason an animal should be ill used in 
one place than in another. If it was thought it brought on 
canine madness, the inhabitants of such towns as 1 have 
mentioned can never be grateful enough for being left to 
its effects! A dog tied under a cart can be very little if 
any more nuisance in London than in any other town. If 
drawing carts or wagons they are likely to cause horses 
to start in London or in any town, they are much more 
likely to do so in the country; for whoever knows any 
thing about horses knows that the same object that he 
passes without in any way noticing them in crowded streets 
will make him fly out of the road in the country. Let 
ten horses on a country road meet two dogs running along 
in a rattling cart or wagon with some great hulking mon- 
ster riding in it, I will venture to say nine oat of the ten 
start and are really frightened by its unusual appearance. It 
was stated by a sapient and morciful Member, that dogs 
drawing enable many men to get a living by carrying small 
goods about for sale: it may enable a few to do this, but I 
know what it also does — it enables a set of idle, dissolute 
fellows to get about the country by this ostensible way of 
living, but whose real living is by thieving, house-breaking, 
and perhaps worse. I should mention another very de- 
sirable benefit the pubhc gains by dogs drawing in the 
country; it enables all the thimble-ring gentry and pick- 



acteon's fate to them. 61 

pockets to get about much more readily than they could 
before their use, and to escape punishment for their rob- 
beries by their dogs affording them the means of immedi- 
ate flight. You may see one of these scoundrels at a race 
this morning, and by travelling all night he will force his 
unfortunate dogs to txike him fifty miles to another, where 
he commences operations the next morning. A case was 
instanced of deformed or crippled objects who get about 
the country by means of their dogs: this is brought for- 
ward as a strong plea in favour of their use being allowed, 
wiien in fact it is a strong plea for their being put down. 
Such objects have no business going about the country at 
all : they should be taken care of and kept out of sight. It 
is perfectly well known the truly awful effects frequently 
produced under certain circumstances by women meeting 
such objects. If such deformities are not allowed to ex- 
hibit themselves to alarm or disgust the Aristocracy in 
Belgrave Square, why is the humble but equally estimable 
female inhabitant of other towns and places to be alarmed 
and shocked by their appearance? That nearly all the 
dog-cart travelling fellows are thieves is an indisputable 
fact. There is a fellow goes from a town I often visit; he 
is known by the police to be a reputed thief and house- 
breaker, but has hitherto escaped detection. He leaves 
this town on a Monday; by the Saturday he generally 
returns with about a sack of bones, by the collecting of 
which he pretends to live. It would, certainly be a great 
cruelty to prevent so industrious and self-denying a man 
from earning an honest livelihood, for the profit on a sack 
of bones is not much to support a very hale man, his wife, 
children, and two dogs! The fact is, if he is concerned 
in a burglary or robbery, we will say at Hungerford in 
Berkshire, at one o'clock on Tuesday morning, by seven 
or eight o'clock the same morning he is seen with his 
jaded dogs and a bushel of bones in the streets at North- 
ampton, forty miles off, and directly across the country. 
This is one of the industrious lot who would be deprived 
of their bread by putting down the dog-cart trade! We 
are told that men are assisted greatly by dogs in their la- 
bours by mutually drawing, or rather by one siioving, the 
other drawing a cart or barrow; that they divide the la- 
6 



62 CALCULATION. 

bour. Yes, they do divide it, as you may a walnut— eat 
the kernel yourself, and give your partner the shells. The 
way the labour is generally divided is this : the dog not 
only draws the cart," but assists the two-legged beast along, 
who holds on by the handles; and when exhausted by thisy 
he (not the nian, I wish he was,) is visited from time to 
time with the application of constant kicks, within the 
reach of which you will always find the dog fastened. 

A degree of sophistry was used to show, or rather an 
assertion was made by some one, that a man would not ill- 
use a dog more than a horse for his own interest's sake.- 
This is real sophistry. In the first place, a man may very 
Biuch ill-use a horse, and find his interest in so doing: 
in a pecuniary point of view. For instance: a wretched^, 
ill-fed, over-worked animal will drag coals about a street 
for a very long time before he sinks under his sufferings^. 
and as probably his cost price was 305., his loss, if he does- 
die, is not very great. The saving of 5s. a week in his- 
keep pays for him in six weeks, whereas he probably will- 
last twenty; so here, by half-starving and over-working: 
him, we find the owner has made 51.; and deducting the- 
306". first cost, he clears 3/. \0s.; and so he will by his next 
purchase. But the poor dog has a much worse chance: he' 
is probably bought for half a crown, or more probably 
stolen; so all that is got out of him is nearly clear gain.- 
How, therefore, those who voted for a continuance of this^ 
system reconcile it to their feelings either of humanity to' 
the animal or justice to that part of the community who 
reside in provincial towns or the country, appears to me 
as incomprehensible. They certainly do not trouble them- 
selves much in considering what is and what is not cruelty. 

I have stated, that all public exhibitions of bull, bear, 
badger, and dog-fighting were put a stop to: but I believe 
still, if a man chose to bait his own bull in his own barn, 
to whatever extent he miglit carry the barbarity of the 
thing, a trifling fine, if the society for preventing cruelty 
happened to hear of it, would be his only punishment: 
the legislature might say, "A. man may do as he pleases 
in his own premises: we must not interfere with the 
liberty of the subject!" What glorious liberty to be 
allowed to torture an animal as much as I please, pro- 



TOUCH NOT THE L0RD^5 ANOINTED. 63 

vlded I pay 40.S.! " Not interfere with the liberty of the 
subject!" "A man has a right to choose his pursuits in 
his own premises!" I should like to know, if my pursuit 
was having a private still on my premises, how long I 
should be suffered to enjoy my pursuit. I rather think Mr. 
Smelhvash, the exciseman, would very soon teach me how 
far the liberty of the subject would avail me; but by this 
certain duties to the excise would be lost — by baiting a 
bull, none! 

There can be no doubt but the society for the suppres- 
sion of cruelty has had this good effect — it has in a very 
great measure prevented the exhibition of it in the public 
streets: but the punishment they are permitted to inflict is 
so trifling that the desired end is not attained to one half 
the extent it might be. I trust every one will allow that 
the sufferings of animals in performing the ordinary tasks 
demanded of them are quite sufficient, without subjecting 
them to an extra, and unnecessary share of them. I have 
endeavoured in a few cases to show what is and what is 
not cruelty towards them. 1 leave it in abler hands to 
decide on what would be the most ready, effective, and 
lasting mode of preventing or punishing what really is 
cruelty. 



64 



OBSERVATIONS ON DRIVING. 

BY HARRY HIE'OVER. 

" Sunt quos curriculo." 

On nearly every art or science practised by man, there 
have been instructions, treatises, opinions, criticisms, and I 
know not what, repeatedly published, from the highly intel- 
lectual study of astronomy to the more manual art of making 
a horse-shoe. Nothing scarcely has been thought too insig- 
nificant to fix the attention and call forth the written opi- 
nions of those conversant with their subject. Horseman- 
ship has produced writers on that art of a very early date, 
varying their instructions and terms used according to the 
age in which they lived and wrote; but I am not aware 
that any really good instructions in the art of driving have 
yet appeared. Nizmrod, it is true, has given us his illus- 
trations of the road in the pages of Maga, and in a most 
masterly and scientific way has he handled his subject; on 
what subject, it may be asked, has he ever failed to do so? 
But his observations relate only to coaching, of the perfec- 
tion of which those who live in the next century will, I 
fear, have about as vague an idea as we have as yet of the 
merits of the new aerial flying smoke-jack. Why driving 
should have been hitherto considered less worthy of atten- 
tion as a subject to be written on than horsemanship, I 
cannot imagine. That the former should be done well, if 
done at all, I consider of the much greater importance. If 
a man rides, he rides alone, sinco the days of pillions are 
gone by, and has most unquestionably a right to break his 
neck if he pleases: but if I am driven by another, he cer- 
tainly has no right to break mine. Poor Mytton thought 
otherwise, but it is not every one who charges gates in 
tandems. In these money-saving days, where, so long as 
there are six inches square of room in a vehicle, some one 
must be accommodated, sundry great and little necks are, 
in private as well as public carriages, intrusted to the care 



NE SUTOR ULTRA CREPIDAM. 65 

of some one. Surely then this some one, be it papa or his 
subordinate, ought to know not merely something, but all 
about his undertaking. Now it most unfortunately hap- 
pens for the drived, that the driver almost universally con- 
siders that he does know all about it; and hence the fre- 
quent occasions on which Mr. Swiggins, Mrs. Swiggins, a 
friend or two, and half-a-dozen little Swigginses, find them- 
selves on the road, but not in the carriage; and all probably 
because the elder junior Mr. Swiggins would, as he termed 
it, " handle the ribands," an occupation for which I am 
willing to give him credit in another meaning of the ex- 
pression to be fully competent to, but handling silk ribands 
and leather ones are not quite the same thing. The letting 
his riband at home get under his foot, and his riband 
abroad get under his horse's tail, may probably lead to 
very different results; and the "Well, 1 never," ejaculated 
by a pretty shop-girl at Mr. Swiggins's inadvertence in 
the shop, is a somewhat different one to that of a pair of 
horses' heels within an inch of his nose at the inadvertence 
of Mr. Swiggins in his coachman's seat. 

Monomania has become, I believe, the ruling term to 
designate a person being sane on all points but one. Now 
if a perversity and fallacy of idea on a particular point 
constitutes monomania, most certainly nine men out of ten 
who drive are labouring under this infirmity; for they all 
consider themselves fully competent to the task they un- 
dertake. It is singular enough, that though hundreds of 
men who ride on hor^seback quite willingly allow they are 
very indifferent horsemen, you will rarely find a man who 
drives a gig that does not conceive he does it as well as it 
can be done, or who for one moment thinks he is in 
danger from his ignorance. No doubt there is no great 
exertion of art required to sit in a gig, hold the reins, and 
guide a steady horse the way you wish him to go; but 
even in this humble attempt at coachmanship, the way it 
is done would, to a practised eye, at once show, that, while 
one man would be capable of greater things, another in 
fact was not capable of the little he did attemjK. It is true 
a man may drive one horse well, but be by no means a 
pair-horse coachman: the latter may also drive his pair 
well, but be quite astray with four: but whether with one 



66 LOTTERiiJS AND SIMPLE FACTS. 

horse, a pair, a unicorn, or regular team before him, the 
coachman is to be detected at once: his manner of taking 
up his reins and seating himself would be quite sufficient 
for the purpose. Of this our friend Mr. Swiggins could 
not be convinced by all the men in Europe: he can drive 
as fast as any man (such men mostly do:) he has no fear 
of turning a corner at the rate of fourteen miles an hour 
(such men never have:) he gets off safe for a time; hits the 
swing-bar of the leader of some coach in so doing, turns 
round, and smiles, while that smile says, as plainly as a 
smile can say, "Ain't I doing it?" 

Now, though I consider that it takes a much longer time 
to make a man what I call a coachman, than it does to 
make a horseman, there can be no doubt but there are 
numberless men who ride on horseback, and who can 
drive a horse, a pair, or four, who could not ride a steeple- 
race. This arises from the want of practising the latter: 
and the probable reason why so few men, comparativel}^, 
do practise it is that they w^ould be frightened to death to 
attempt it. Now our not-yet-to-be-forgotten friend Swig- 
gins, Junior, might guide, I do not say drive, a pair of 
horses somehow; put him on l^ottery, and, fme-tempered 
animal as he is, and easy as he is to sit upon, let him take 
one of his five-and-twenty feet swings, depend upon it 
Swiggins would not be in his saddle on landing: or place 
him on Peter Simple, and set him going, he would take 
him faster and farther from papa and mamma than ever 
the hopes of the family went before — so, in truth, he 
would many a better man. This in no way militates 
against or disproves my opinion, that it requires more time 
and experience to make a coachman than a horseman. To 
bring a coach up from Brighton to the centre of London 
in the time and in the style that for so many j-ears Snow 
did, is attended with a little more difficulty than people 
generally imagine; and to steer a horse, and he perhaps an 
uncertain one, four miles across countr}" as Oliver can, 
comes within the scope of but few men's capabilities. In 
stating two particular names, I beg to exculpate myself 
from any charge of being thought in any wa}' as lessening 
the merit of others who follow the same pursuits, whether 
as coachmen or steeple-race riders. In each capacity 



SUAVITER IN MODO, FORTITER IN RE. 67 

there are a few first-rate artists, all of whom, upon the 
whole, may be one as good as the other. Some may in a 
particular point perhaps excel, while in another they fall 
short: but, taking them all in all, it would be ver}- difficult, 
if not impossible, and certainly invidious, to give the pre- 
ference to any one among the truly excellent. One coach- 
man will hustle along a heavy lazy team that another 
equally good can scarcely keep his time with: but give a 
team of regular larking fly-away devils to the latter, he 
will keep them together, in temper and pace, better than 
the former, who would perhaps be too rude with them. 
He could drive all sorts; so they both could, but neither 
of them all sorts equally well. So in riding, one man ex- 
cels on a light-mouthed nervous fidgety horse; he will 
coax him across country and prevent his taking too much 
out of himself This can only be done by sitting quite 
still on him, having fine delicate hands, patience, and 
temper that nothing can disturb. Another shines on a 
violent restiff' determined horse: here a man must have a 
seat firm as a Centaur, arms and shoulders of cast-iron, and 
resolution and courage that nothing can daunt. He must 
also keep his temper, or, what is bad to begin with, he 
will render quite unmanageable before his business is done. 
Temper is also a sine qua non in a coachman; it is even 
more necessary than in a horseman, for the sake of others. 
An irritated horse bolts off with his rider, or throws him, 
or both; he alone pays the penalty of his fault: but an ir- 
ritated horse in harness, particularly in light private car- 
riages, is perfectly awful. We may and can manage him 
as wheeler to a coach; the weight and his companions will 
hold him: but in a light carriage, let me tell very young 
coachmen who may think they are in little danger, that . 
no man living can hold two horses determined to run 
away; and as to four all in the same mind, they are no 
more to be held than a locomotive engine, for which rea- 
son we should never get their steam up too high. 

Having got thus far in the Observations on Driving, I 
must now do what 1 ought to have done at the commence- 
ment; that is, show my motive for commencing at all: I 
have sometimes indulged in the habit of snatching up my 
pen, scribbling a few sheets of paper, and then beginning 



68 "it is an honour that i dreamt not of." 

to make choice of a subject to write upon. I have not, 
however, in this instance, been quite as remiss as I often 
am, for I really had a fixed motive in commencing my 
first line. It was neither more nor less than this— I con- 
sider a regular treatise on driving, in its general sense of 
the word, would be a work of great utility; and all I in- 
tend or hope to do by the few poges I propose to write on 
the subject is to show that driving is not quite compre- 
hended in sitting behind a horse, or given number of 
horses, with the reins in the driver's hand, and trusting to 
Providence and good luck for getting along in safety by 
so doing. My hope is to induce some competent person 
to publish a work of the description to which I alkide. I 
do not mean a mere theoretical author, ])ut one who, from 
practice and experience, is acquainted with all the minutiae 
of the business that constitutes the finished coachman. I 
have been generally accounted in my own person a very 
tolerable wagonner; but I am deterred from attempting a 
work of the kind myself, from having just sense enough 
to be aware that if 1 could drive four horses about four 
times as well as I can, 1 could point out many others who 
would then be four times as good coachmen as myself, 
though I have handled some very rum ones in private and 
public carriages, have met with my accidents "in field and 
flood," and yet on the road have always (thank my luck) 
kept my coach upright. I have been also thought as a 
horseman no despicable workman across any practicable 
country, and, niirabile dictu, have won two out of three 
of the only races across country I ever rode. Now this 
has just given me sufficient knowledge of the thing to de- 
termine, that had I a horse to go to-morrow, and I was al- 
lowed to ride him at 1 1 st, if I had the alternative of put- 
ting Powell, or Oliver, and some otliers, on him at 12 st. 
7 lb., unless I was determined to lose my money, I would 
solicit either of them to ride him at the additional weight; 
and yet I know what weight does or rather undoes. "A 
little knowledge is a dangerous thing." I really flatter 
myself I possess comparatively a good deal in these mat- 
ters; yet this teaches me that I do not know quite half 
enough, and also that many who profess a great deal really 
know nothing at all. 



A REAL DEVIL, A REAL COACHMAN. 69 

If a man from inclination or circumstances is destined 
to drive only one description of vehicle and one descrip- 
tion of horse, it would be sufficient for his purpose that he 
drives that vehicle well and safel3^ The private servant 
who drives a Brougham, or a Clarence, or any description 
of one-horse carriage, may do very well for this, and 
doubtless flatters himself he could do very well for any 
other description of coachmanship; he would, however, 
find himself, or at all events others would find him, wo- 
fully deceived if put to the test. The different description 
of knowledge and practice required in driving different 
descriptions of carriages, different descriptions of horses, 
and those in different descriptions of situation, is much 
more varied than people are apt to imatijine. The finished 
coachman can certainly drive any thing, and well, but he 
will not nor cannot drive every thing equally well. If the 
once-celebrated Dick Vaughan, better known as "Hell-fire 
Dick," could rise from his tomb, though he was generally 
accommodated with teams that no one but himself would 
drive, made up of as great devils in their way as poor Dick 
was in his, he could no more get the Duchess of Buc- 
cleuch's carriage up to the Opera-door on a crowded night 
as Her Grace's coachman can than he could fly; and give 
the other four of Dick's queer ones to handle, he would 
very soon, as Dick would say, "begin to look nine ways 
for Sunday." There can be no doubt but the stage-coach- 
man requires, and fortunately acquires, generally speaking, 
more diversified knowledge in coachmanship than any 
other votary of the whip in existence, particularly if driv- 
ing sixty or seventy miles across a country. Here he will 
have perhaps nine or ten teams to drive, to learn and ma- 
nage the tempers of from forty to fifty different horses, in- 
dependent of as many changes of those horses as lameness, 
illness, accidents, and various other circumstances may 
from time to time render necessary, and how to get over 
all sorts of ground, with the greatest advantage as to time, 
the ease of his horses, and the safety of his passengers — 
clearly showing that driving the same vehicle, I mean here 
a coach, in different situations and under different circum- 
stances, requires quite different management. I will in- 
stance a fact that came under my immediate observation. 



70 ^^ LEAVE WELL ALONE." 

A coachman, whom I will not name farther than by 
saying that he was considered a capital whip — (and so he 
was in the situation he had held for many years) — drove 
from a country-place to Holborn, twenty-two miles, and 
back in the evening, over a perfectly flat road, and his 
time was three hours and a quarter. He was well horsed, 
and his stock, as they well might be, fat as pigs. He had 
driven several of them for many years, and so he might 
at the pace : in fact, unless they died from their age or fat, 
they had nothing else to kill them. He was removed 
from this road to another to drive an opposition, and here 
the case was widely different, and bad was the judgment 
that changed his situation. He had now to drive light 
horses over fifty miles of diversified country, great part of 
it hilly, the time specified by both coaches being ten miles 
and a half an hour including stoppages. What was the 
consequence? In a few weeks, his stock, that he took to 
in fine condition, were torn to pieces; he was out of his 
place, in a hunting phrase out of his line of country; was 
no judge of pace; was himself and had his horses all 
abroad, and was forced to be put back on his old coach, 
where his horses, which had during this time been driven 
hy quite a young hand, were very glad to see him: so 
were his passengers, his horse-keepers, his neighbours, and 
every one on the road, for a more superior well-conducted 
man never lived: he was a man of that cast of mind and 
manners that falls to the lot of few men in his situation. 

Nothing can certainly be prettier than to see a coach 
going; over Smitham Bottom, or any other similar piece of 
choice ground, at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, with 
four nearly thorough-bred horses, careering along and 
playing with each other, all above their work, before a pet 
coach, the coachman with a cigar in his mouth and nothing 
to do but to hold them. Some beautiful specimens of 
coach-horses and coachmanship have been seen along that 
line, I should say more so on the whole than on any other 
road in England: but Smitham Bottom does not last for 
ever, nor do the exuberant spirits of horses; and the team 
that requires a strong hand to hold them for seven miles 
sometimes wants a little tying up during the last two or 
three if against collar, good as they may be. 



TWADDLERS. 71 

Various have been the complaints made against coach- 
men for what in a city or le,ti;al pln-ase is termed "furious- 
driving," and as many have been fuhninated against coach- 
owners for employing such homicidal coachmen: but let 
me tell these originators of such complaints, that they 
know nothing at all about the matter of which they are 
complaining; that their twaddle is all nonsense, their ani- 
madversions injustice, and the wisest thing they can do i» 
to hold their tongue, and in future travel in an invalid 
chair, or, as an old aunt of mine once actually did to the 
ridicule of the rest of her family, wend their way frora 
London to Finchley in a sedan. 

A coach-owner advertises and engages to set down his 
passengers a hundred miles from a given place in ten 
hours. Now thoso persons who expect this to be done by 
horses trotting the whole distance at a good fair pace know 
nothing about the thing, and have no business in a fast 
coach. The coach-owner does not guaranty or promise 
to set you down safely at your destination (nor do they 
now do so by the smoke conveyance,) he onl}^ engages to- 
use every means in his power to do so, and, comparatively, 
very few accidents occur. But whoever knows any thing 
of coaching or driving must know, that to do 100 miles at 
ten miles an hour, and that including stoppages, part of the 
Toad must be done at six, the majority of it at twelve, and 
tnany parts of it at fifteen miles an hour. This is the furi- 
ous driving complained of. If the coach-proprietor fails 
in fulfilling his contract with the public, he is considered 
as having imposed upon them., and here is a source of com- 
plaint. People like the shortness of time occupied in' 
travelling, are anxious to get to their journey's end, but 
want this to be done without inconvenience or any risk* 
The ladies would wish to have time to arrange their curl& 
every time the coach changes horses; the gentlemen to sip 
their Sherry or Claret after dinner, and then not to be 
hurried in arranging their curls or cravats, and all this to 
he taken out of the ten hours independent of no galloping, 
allowed. Talking of galloping, this is a thing little under- 
stood among the uninitiated: people are apt to imagine, 
l)ecause all four horses are galloping, that the coach must 
he going at a dangerous and quite unlawful rate. Such 



72 EXPERIENTIA DOCET. 

persons, I suspect, have never ridden umpire to a trotting- 
match; if they had, they would have found that even a 
moderate trotter would keep their horse to a fair hunting 
gallop; and it by no means follows, because horses are 
galloping, that they are going faster than they would were 
they all fast in their trot. But it is difficult to get four 
horses to trot fast together; whereas put them in a gallop, 
they can all be made to do their equal portion of work, 
though they probably do not exceed eleven or twelve 
miles an hour. 

I am, in a limited sense of the word, a great advocate 

for a little galloping where a fast pace is required. I know 

that so far from its distressing horses, it greatly relieves 

them if judiciously done and over proper ground. It 

would not have done in former days when seven miles an 

hour was held to be fast, for the horses then employed 

were not generally a galloping sort: but now-a-days no 

horse is fit for fast harness work who is not; consequently, 

that pace is as natural to him as the trot. He gains relief 

by change of pace: either in trotting or galloping, nearly 

all the tendons and muscles of the animal are more or less 

at work; but in each pace the strain is greater in some 

than in the others. 13y change of pace, the points that 

have been the most strained on are relieved, and others 

more directly called into action. This produces something 

like the relief a man finds from changing his burden from 

one shoulder to the other: he does not of course get rid 

of any portion of the labour, hut the fatigued muscles are 

enabled to recover their tone and energy. There is another 

reason why I am confident that a little galloping, or, in 

road phrase, "springing 'em a bit," is a relief, even should 

the pace be accelerated by it. Pace of any sort becom.es 

distressing when that pace is forced to its utmost speed. 

A man compelled to walk six miles within the hour is 

much distressed: allow him to vary his pace, that is, run 

a portion of the distance, he will do the six miles with 

very little effort. Upon the same principle, the horse will 

do his ten miles in forty minutes comparatively with ease 

if allowed to gallop a portion of the >iistance. The rate of 

fifteen miles an hour in a trot will keep the tendons and 

muscles of a very fast harse to nearly their utmost tension i 



A rOUNG JOCK AND AN OLD PHENOMENON. 73 

whereas the same rate in a gallop, not being any thing like 
what^they are in that pace capable of, leaves them com- 
paratively at ease. Take a child by the hand, and walk 
at such a pace as to enable him at his best walk to keep 
up with you, you will very soon find the little fellow bc2;in 
to run. The fact is, he cannot walk at the rate of three 
miles an hour without putting his muscles to their utmost 
stretch: he would tire at the pace in a walk in a quarter 
of a mile; whereas he will trot along cheerfully at an in- 
creased rate of going, and gambol before you into the bar- 
gain. Reasoning by analogy, the horse finds out the same 
thing, and this so often induces him voluntarily to endea- 
vour to canter in harness. In my humble opinion, trotters 
much oftener rise in their trot from distress than people 
fancy, who are apt to impute their doing so to impatience. 
It may be in one sense of the word from this feeling, but 
it is not from impatience to go faster; for probably from 
habit such horses as Dutchman, Confidence, Wanky, and 
many others, can trot a mile nearly as fast as they could 
gallop it: it is impatience under the aches and pains they 
feel in their limbs and muscles from having been kept at 
their top speed for a length of time, which they try to ease 
by breaking into a change. It is difficult to get some irri- 
table horses to settle to the trot at first, and impatience of 
temper causes this: but when old practised horses such as 
I have mentioned, after having settled to their pace, do 
rise, I am quite satisfied it generally arises from the cause 
I mention. I may be wrong: but such has ever been my 
opinion. 

As some proof of this, when quite a young boy I was 
put on old Phenomenon, whose owner assured a gentle- 
man present that from practice in her trot, and never being 
allowed to be cantered or galloped, she positively could 
trot at a greater rate of speed than she could gallop. Whe- 
ther this was the case or not I cannot say, but I will state 
what occurred: the reader will then draw what inference 
he pleases from the result. I was desired to take her half 
a mile up the road, to turn, and, as well as the short dis- 
tance would permit, to get her up to her top speed in her 
trot; then to get her into a gallop (which 1 did with diffi- 
culty,) to her best in that pace; and then to strike her 
7 



74 AN ESCAPE. 

three or four times with the whip. I did so; and from 
her gallop, as quickly as she could, she actually did change 
to her trot, ancl so far as I could judge she went faster 
than in her gallop: she ought to have been a pretty good 
judge of her own powers at that time, for I believe she 
was eighteen years old, at least so I understood. 

Now, though I plead guilty to being an advocate for a 
little galloping in harness, I do not mean that sortof scram- 
bling harum-scarum driving I have sometimes seen, where, 
like the general re])resentations of the steeds of the Sun^ 
each horse appears to go his own way; and, as if ten miles 
were not long enough, they are made thirteen, the track 
of the wheels on the road leaving a very correct drawing 
of the worm of a corkscrew. Such a driver should never 
be given but one description of carriage, and that is a wheel- 
barrow. 

We certainly hear of accidents occurring frequently 
enough: but it appears quite miraculous to me that they 
do not occur much more frequently than they do, when I 
see the number of persons undertaking to drive, who, take 
their horse or horses from the carriage they draw, could 
positively no more put them into it again properly than a 
dog-ribbed Indian could put together a Chinese puzzle. 
To show that I by no means exaggerate the probability of 
this case, I w^ill mention an instance or two corroborative 
of the fact. I once saw a gentleman driving three ladies 
in a phaeton with a very fine horse, who was performing, 
sundry and various antics pretty enough in themselves, 
but by no means desirable in a low phaeton. The gentle- 
man, little as he knew about the matter, knew enough to 
find out that something was wrong: he stopped, got out. 
examined the horse and harness, was quite satisfied all was 
right, so got in again; but on starting again he got his car^ 
riage on a dead lock, so, had tlie horse gone two yards 
further in the same direction, as a matter of course over 
they would all have toddled. Out, very wisely, bolted my 
gentleman again, and, still more wisely, stood at the hoi'se's 
head till some one came up. This some one happened to 
be myself, whose assistance was earnestl}^ requested. He 
could in no way account for the conduct of the horse, that 
had taken them very quietly to an old lady's house where 



A PAGE. 75 

they had dined close by: he thought it quite extraordina- 
ry; I did not. It appears, he had on his return put the 
Iiorse into the phaeton himself, had passed the traces 
through the back band tugs, which he thought were in- 
tended only for that purpose, had carefully buckled the 
belly band, leaving the shafts outside the whole; these he 
had supported by the breeching hip-straps only, and in this 
way intended to get home safely over eight miles of a hilly 
road. I put him to rights: the horse, luckily a very fine- 
tempered one, went off quietly, and I trust the party got 
home safely. Now, after all, I will be bound these ladies 
would again trust themselves to the gentleman, and he 
would again undertake the driving them. 

My next gentleman I met driving a phaeton also, with 
a pair of queerish ill-matched cobs, and a page covered 
with buttons by his side. They were travelling along 
quietly enough, but I saw something was wrong, as each 
cob seemed by the turn of his head as if he was intently 
looking for something in the hedge on his own side of the 
road. Before they quite came up to me, I had discovered 
the occasion of this, and as there were ladies in the car- 
riage, I took the liberty of stopping the turn-out, and asked 
the gentleman if he considered the way in which his reins 
were buckled to his bits as advantageous? in which case, I 
of course should bow to his superior judgment. "He was 
not aware of any peculiarity in their application." This 
was enough. 1 altered them. The fact was, instead of 
crossing his coupling-reins, he had applied each to its own 
side; so of course his horses' heads were pulled into the 
position of the flukes of an anchor. I had not quite done 
with him yet; for finding his traces not drawing quite in 
the usual line, 1 found he had passed them through the hip- 
straps of his breeching, the cobs half carrying the fore-car- 
riage of the phaeton on their rumps, and of course tight- 
ening the pole-pieces, so they were kept together as lov- 
ingly as possible, so far as their bodies went; their necks 
and heads, however, being in the direction above described. 
After altering this also, I took my leave: my friend did 
the same, very coolly. I am quite confident he thought 
the alteration of no earthly consequence, and probably con- 
sidered me an impertinent fellow for my interference. I 



76 DENTRIFUGAL COACHMANSHIP. 

puzzled myself all the way home as to who my friend might 
be, and how his horses got put together in such a novel 
manner: but it was of no use; 1 could come to no conclu- 
sion on the subject. Having occasion some months after 
to get something done to a tooth, I went to a neighbouring 
town, knocked at the door of a dentist, when who should 
open it but the page of buttons innumerable, and of course 
in the operator I saw my friend the master of the cobs. I 
then learned he kept them at livery, had on tTie day I met 
him been to a pic-nic, and then, with the valuable assist- 
ance of the page, had put his cobs to in the novel w^ay I 
have mentioned, which, ^;ar excellence, we will call the 
dentrifugal plan. 

Friend the third appeal's in the person of an acquaint- 
ance who called on me one morning in a very neat phaeton, 
quite a George the Fourth, a very aristocratic-looking gal- 
loway, and a set of harness which he considered perhaps 
in equally good taste. Oh, ye Dryads and ye Fauns, what 
a set of harness! the near side of an old plated double set! 
I inquired into the origin of this incongruous amalgama- 
tion, and found that the phaeton was a present, the gallo- 
way had been purchased at ten sovereigns as perfectly 
sound (worth forty if he had been so,) and the harness, li- 
terally covered with plated ornaments, he had bought at a 
sale for two pounds the double set, very economically 
thinking, that, as the set was a dead bargain, and, as he 
thought, would do equally well for two horses in one 
way as in another, he might sell the one so as to get the 
other for nothing for his own use: but he unfortunately 
found, that although the silvered ornaments destined for 
each horse to carry would load a hand-cart, no one would 
look twice at the second set, so he retained them with the 
comfortable assurance that he was harnessed for life (so he 
was in truth with his bargain.) But the best of the joke, 
and indeed the only joke in the anecdote, was this: the 
harness which the auctioneer guarantied as complete really 
was so, and sported a pair of breechings about five inches 
in width. These, of course, as in all double harness, went 
into the trace buckles, and with a pole and pole pieces were 
quite adequate to the purposes of breeching: but when used 
in a phaeton or gig, acted about in the same way to their 



A GALLOWAY FOR THE MILLION. 77 

destined purpose as the strap of a troiiser would, if placed 
behind the leg instead of under the foot. But there was a 
breeching on the galloway; so, of course, my acquaintance 
drove down every hill with perfect confidence. He had as 
yet met no accident. The truth was, this galloway, which 
was half blind and broken-winded, by the aid of the dash- 
hoard as well as the tugs, stopped the phaeton going down 
hill. Now had another horse been put in, what would have 
been the consequence? why, a kicking match in which I 
will back the nag to have the best of it. In a light gig, or 
in the generality of phaetons, there is danger enough even 
^vhen properly appointed; but when otherwise, unless the 
animal that draws it is as quiet as a sheep, the danger is 
really imminent. 

When I speak of a coachman, 1 beg it to be understood 
I do not mean always a stage-coachman or a gentleman's 
coachman, but use it as we do the word sailor as applied to 
any one who contributes to or undertakes the management 
of a vessel, v/hether sea-boy or admiral. I know little, in- 
deed nothing, about these matters; but I imagine a sailor 
v^'ould be considered as having little pretension to that cha- 
racter if he could only steer a vessel in a calm sea with 
every sail properly set. I apprehend he would be expected 
to know every rope in his ship, their different uses, be able 
to detect an}^ thing that was wrong, and be equally able to 
set it right with his ovvn hand. A coachman also, is not 
merely one who, with every thing put right for him, can 
contrive to turn corners without running against a post, or 
one who can manage to wend hi^ vvay aloi^g a road or mo- 
derately frequented street: he should understand his car- 
riage, know its component parts, and their effects on its 
safety and running. If he docs not know this, he may be 
driving with something about it loose, cracked, strained, 
broken, or misplaced, at the imminent risk of his own and 
his companions' lives; and if not a judge of its running 
well or ill, his horses will suffer; for the difference between 
the running of one carriage and another may probably, 
when loaded, be nearly or quite half a horse. I need 
scarcely say it is also necessary he siiould understand the 
full effect of every strap and buckle about his harness; for 
on properly harnessing and bitting horses, all their comfort 



78 A BIT OF COMMAND AND A BIT OF ADVICE. 

and that of the driver depends: more accidents happen from 
the want of this than from any other cause; and horses are 
also often very much punished in their work from such ne- 
glect. A man ignorant of all this does not know w^hat is 
likely to lead to danger; and of course, when once in it, is 
as helpless as a child in adopting perhaps the only means 
of getting out of it. The reader has doubtless often seen a 
coachman, before taking hold of his reins, go to all four of 
his horses' heads, lay hold of their bits, and feel if each 
horse is properly bitted. Perhaps this to some has appeared 
a useless precaution: the coachman knows better; he knows 
that on that a great part of his safety depends. 

1 should perhaps much surprise many persons by stating 
that a horse improperly bitted will sometimes set him kick- 
ing: they may say, " What on earth has his mouth to do 
with his heels?" A great deal, with some horses. They 
say the devil is good-tempered when he is well pleased ; 
so am I, and so is a horse; and while he is, he goes plea- 
santly, and quietly. Now put too severe a bit in his 
mouth, and, what is ten times worse, put the reins into 
rude hands, his mouth gets punished: this naturally irri- 
tates, and puts him out of temper: then let any little thing 
occur that at another time he would not have cared for, in 
his present temper he sets to milling away at once; yet to 
take the other side of the question, 1 am in general an ad- 
vocate for commanding bits, of course more or less so ac- 
cording to each horse's mouth; but I mean commanding 
so far as relates to that horse: but then horses thus bitted 
must be given up to a coachman, not a Yahoo with fists 
like a sledge-hammer. In single harness, particularly in 
breaking or driving a horse disposed to kick, he should 
have a very severe bit in his mouth, by means of which, 
if he begins his nonsense, you may bring him up at once 
on his haunches or nearly on his tail. This is no pleasing 
operation to him: it is meant as punishment, and a few 
times repeated will make him fear to begin again. But 
this must be judiciously done, and when other and gentler 
measures fail: a horse thus severely bitted should be driven 
by a man with hands as light as a feather, though, should 
occasion require it, as strong as those of a giant. A severe 
bit with such a horse also prevents that pleasing accompa- 



I 



A MARE OF HONOUR. 79 

niment to kicking, namely, running away, a circumstance 
of very common occurrence. 

So far as single harness is concerned, I never drive 
without a kicking-stiap, and that not merely a make be- 
lieve, but one that will stand ditto repeated. I had as a 
very young one, three or four milling matches in single 
harness, for then I cared little what I drove; but as I 
found I always came off second best in body or pocket, I 
took to kicking straps, mean to continue them, and re- 
commend my friends to do the same. I have heard it 
said by good judges that they sometimes make a horse 
kick. I will not dispute the fact: they may sometimes do so, 
or make him disposed to do it; but I have a vague opinion 
of my own that it is better a horse should attempt to do 
mischief half a dozen times without being able to effect it 
in any serious way, than he should once effectually save 
the coach maker the trouble of taking a gig to pieces. I 
only reason from my own experience and practice. Since 
I used kicking straps, I have never paid eighteenpence for 
repairs from kicking: yet within a few months past I drove 
for a year a fast mare, who would always kick if she had 
a chance given her, and did attempt it constantly; but my 
strap always kept her down so as to prevent mischief. I 
was recommended to do away with it, and was assured she 
would then not attempt it, but 1 did not think proper to 
trust to her honour. The person who advised me to do 
so bought her, and she repaid his confidence by doing 
what I told him she would do, kicking his gig to atoms. 
She was not to blame; on the contrary, she was a perfectly 
honourable mare; she always promised, as far as dumb 
show could promise, that she would kick if she could, and 
I never knew her break her word, nor did she with him. 
The guarding against the probability of getting into 
difficulties or danger I consider the first duty of a coach- 
man; the knowing what is likely to lead to either, an in- 
dispensable part of his qualification to become one; and 
when in difficulty, a fine hand, strong nerve, a quick eye, 
and presence of mind are all necessary to extricate him 
from it. Here the coachman shows himself, and here the 
tyro universally fails: the latter sees tlie effect plain enough, 
but knows nothing of the cause; consequently, he either 



80 PRESENCE OF MIND. 

sits still and does nothing, or if he does any thing, in all 
probability does what increases both the ditliculty and the 
dano;er. In proof of what presence of mind and knowing 
what to do in an emergency will effect, I will mention 
what occurred to myself and a friend, who in addition to 
being the best horseman in his regiment, was also by far 
the best coachman in that or most others. Coming down 
Piccadilly in his phaeton with a p^ir of splendid goers, 
when nearly opposite the Duke of Cambridge's, in the 
middle of the short hill, the pole broke just behind the 
pole-hook: nineteen men out of twenty would have stopped, 
or attempted the impossibility of stopping tiie carriage, 
and a smash must have in that case been the inevitable 
consequence: but no; quick as his thought could have sug- 
gested tbe manoeuvre, he whirled his horses round, and 
w^e were quietly and safely sitting with our faces up-hill 
in a moment. 

A nearly similar accident happened to myself I was 
driving, in fact breaking, a pair of thorough-bred ones to 
harness, four and five years old, own brothers; they had 
both become perfectly handy and were perfectly good tem- 
pered, but from youth, high blood, and high condition, 
ready to avail themselves of any excuse for a lark. I had 
driven them all about a town perfectly well and all right, 
till, coming down a hilly street, 'up went my pole nearly 
to their ears, my toe-board nearly coming on their rumps. 
I now found something was all wrong, and guessed the cause. 
A moment, and a milling bout must have been the conse- 
quence. I struck them both sharply; off they went like 
two startled antelopes, down the hill at about eighteen 
miles an hour, feather-edging every thing we passed, I ex- 
pecting to give something an insider: but we escaped; 
the opposite hill ascending enabled me to pull up, when 
I found, sure enough, the pole-pin had been left out. 
Which looked the most frightened when we stopped I 
know not, myself, the man behind, or the horses; I only 
know that I felt frightened enough for all four, and, judging 
by the screams as we came along, a good many others 
were frightened too. 

I liave hitherto merely confined my observations to 
amateur drivers: let us now look a little to those who en- 



TIMES PAST AND PRESENT. 81 

gage themselves as hired coachmen. Among these, the 
mail, and fast-coach coachman takes (or I ought to say took,) 
and deservedly, the first place. Among these, from the 
year (we will say about) 1790 to 1S40, we could point out 
many men, who ranking in point of family and education 
as unquestionable gentlemen, have l^een induced, some by 
adverse circumstances, and many by imprudence, to seek 
a livelihood by driving coaches. And here let me make 
some remarks on this subject. That the situation of a 
stage-coachman cannot in any way be consonant with the 
feelings of a gentleman, is a matter upon which there can- 
not be two opinions among rational men. The greater 
then the merit in the few who have had resolution enough 
to adopt this mode of providing for themselves or families, 
in preference to despicably living in idleness, trusting to elee- 
mosynary assistance from friends, or being guilty of acts 
that, if not in law, at least in morality, amount to neither 
more nor less than those of the common swindler. I can 
instance the case of one of the most gentleman-like men I 
know. He was in difficulties; he took a coach, showed 
himself tip top as a coachman vvhile on his box, and pre- 
served the perfect manners of a gentleman when off. He 
is since married, enjoys an income of nine hundred a-year, 
and has every prospect of shortly coming into a title, with 
a property of fifteen thousand. I sincerely wish his im- 
prudences had never laid him open to charges of a less 
commendable nature than driving a coach. 1 consider his 
doing the latter as a redeeming clause in his favour when 
opposed to the former. There can be no doubt the Four- 
in-Hand-Club, and the mania for driving, first gave that 
impetus to coaching that eventually brought it to the zenith 
of its glory — " but all its glory's past.'^ Sixty years since, 
the post boy was considered as holding a superior station 
to the stage-coachman, and was in fact superior in his man- 
ners and address to the other. This naturally followed 
from his having more intercourse with gentlemen, who, in 
those days, would as soon have thought of travelling by 
the road-wagon as by the stage-coach; consequently the 
persons employed to drive coaches were the red-faced burly 
gin-and-beer drinking animal we see represented in some 
old prints; while the post boy was a smart, knowing, intel- 



82 ^rOURNlNG COACHES. 

ligent fellow, and a complete coxcomb in his way: when 
his horses became too bad for his use, they were turned 
over to the coach. The speed, as it was then thought, of 
the mail coaches first induced gentlemen and respectable 
persons to travel by them. This probably gave the first 
fillip to coach-proprietors, who soon saw it would be their 
interest to do their work better, and they did so. I should 
say that Kirby's Chichester Coach was perhaps the first 
(or nearly so) really well appointed coach on the road. 
As coaches improved, so did coachmen, and consequently 
the class of persons who travelled by them. Then came 
the four-in-hand rage. These amateurs, whenever they 
saw a superior man as a coachman, noticed him; this 
produced further reformation in the manners of coachmen. 
Gentlemen then began to secure the box-seat: and then 
came on observations on the merits or demerits of the team, 
the harness, ocC. All this was carried by the coachman to 
the coach-owner, who consequently began to feel a laud- 
able pride in his turns out, got superior men on all his 
coaches; and when such men as Lord Sefton, Sir H. Pey- 
ton, Mr. Agar, Mr. Ward, cum raultis aliis, condescended 
to notice a coachman or patronize his coach, the fame of 
that coachman and coach was established. It was in fact 
to the encouragement such men gave where they saw en- 
couragement was deserved, that the public are (I am sorry 
to adcl I must now say were) indebted for the speed, com- 
fort, and safety with which they were enabled to travel by 
public conveyances. Then, when this business had arrived 
as near perfection as perhaps it could be brought, came that 
curse or blessing, as the future will show, to mankind — 
steam; and here for the present, so far as coaching is con-- 
cerned, ends the drama. 

We must now mention the private gentleman's coach- 
man; and here is another class of men, who, if things con- 
tinue to regress as they are now doing, will, in a very few 
years, become very scarce indeed. Economy has, doubt- 
less from necessity, becomxC so much the order of the day, 
that numberless families who were accustomed to keep 
their chariot and coachman, with a groom for their saddle- 
horses, have now put down chariot and coachman, got a 
Brougham, Clarence, or some other description of vehicle 



A COURT DAY. S3 

that goes with one horse, which the groom drives in addi- 
tion to his former husiness. Those men who moved in a 
certain rank of life kept a coachman for their lady's use, 
and one for their own chariot: this latter functionary is 
now, in a vast numher of cases, dispensed with, and a cab 
and tiger stand in the stead, or the Brougham and groom 
again. Body-coachmen will always probably be indispen- 
sable to the establishments of noblemen: but in many of 
them now he occasionally drives his master's chariot — a 
thing he was in former days never expected to do, unless 
on such an occasion as going to court. The first coachman 
to a woman of high fashion requires much more knowledge 
of his business than people generally suppose. Here every 
jolt must be broken; no chucking of his carriage over the 
crossings in the street; no sndden pulls up, or hitting 
horses with so little judgment as to cause a sudden back- 
ward jerk to the carriage; no stopping at doors so as id 
leave it swaying backwards and forwards to the full ex- 
tent of the check-braces, and the discomfiture of its delicate 
and fastidious inmates: the carriage must start, go on its 
Way, and stop as smoothly as it went off. Let the accus- 
tomed perfect coachman of such a lady be exchanged with- 
out her knowing it, and a merely moderately good one put 
in his place, I will answer for it, that before he had driven 
her a quarter of a mile the check-string would be pulled^ 
and inquiry made whether he was ill, mad, or in liquor? 
Merely passing safely between other vehicles would not 
be sufficient to satisfy one accustomed to be driven by suci? 
an artist as a first-rate body-coachman. To any amateui 
of driving, it is really a treat to see such men handling 
their horses on such occasions as a court day. They may 
be seen threading the mazes of a dense crowd, their car- 
riages gliding about like so many gondolas on the grand 
canal at Venice; no fuss, no pulling and hauling; a turn of 
the wrist is sufficient for horses accustomed to be driven 
by such coachmen. All seems easy to the by-standers, no 
difficulty appearing; but this apparent ease shows the mas- 
terly hand that is at w^ork. There is a kind of free-ma- 
sonry among such men that enables them to detect the 
perfect coachman at a glance. A cast of the eye at the 
hands of each other on meeting is sufficient to show to 



84 CKITICIS.MS. 

each what the otiier intends doing: they know the}- will 
each do what they intend, though only two inches of spare 
room is between them: with confidence in their mutual 
skill, they fearlessly pursue their course with as much pre- 
cision and certainty as if the wheels of their carriages were 
confined in the track of a railroad. Mishaps, or even mis- 
takes, on such an occasion hardly ever occur; and for this 
reason, they are all or nearly all perfect artists. But go to 
the theatres, the scene is widely different: here is to be 
heard swearing, whipping, smashing of panels, plunging of 
horses, vociferations of coachmen, cads, and constables — 
the whole place a perfect pandemonium. This contrast 
arises from, in the latter case, numberless men being em- 
ployed to drive carriages that have little pretensions to the 
name of coachmen. These clumsy w^orkmen often fall to 
the lot of single ladies, and nearly always to tradesmen who 
keep a carriage, the owners of vvhich, not being competent 
judges of driving, take a coachman from the recommenda- 
tion of others, who probably know as little of the matter as 
themselves. Here let me strongly recommend ladies never 
to take a coachman on mere recommendation, unless they 
well know the person giving the recommendation is a per- 
fect judge of the requisite qualities of one. If they consi- 
der a man to be such a one as they want to engage, be- 
fore finally doing so let tbem get some one of their acquaint- 
ance who thoroughly understands such matters to sit by his 
side on a box for half an hour: he will then either be at 
once disapproved of, or if the contrary, they will be certain 
of having a servant who understands his business. Ten 
pounds a year more in wages will be amply made up by 
avoiding coachmakers' bills for repairs, or those of veteri- 
nary surgeons for accidents to horses. They will also have 
their carriage-horses and harness neatly turned out, and 
properly and safely driven by a man w4io looks like a coach- 
man, instead of getting one who does not know how to do 
either, and who will probably be asked by some knowing 
fellow, " Pray, sir, w^ho feeds the hogs when you are out?" 
or, '' 1 say, neighbour, how much extra does your governor 
give you for milking?" or, should both footman and coach- 
man be slovenly, loutish-looking fellows, the former will 
probably be addressed in something like the following re- 



DONE TO A TURN. S5 

fined phraseolojry: — " I say, llck-platc, when you'd done 
the knives, why didn't you clean that spoon on the box 
there?" An untaught, stupid house-servant plagues and 
mortifies one by his awkwardness; but a similar sort of 
coachman should never be trusted at large without a string 
and collar about his neck to keep him off coach-boxes. If 
this won't do, put a ring in his nose and fasten him up. 

I have only, in the foregoing page or two, paid a just 
tribute to the merits of the coachmen of noblemen or men 
of large fortunes, but I must at the same time remark, that 
I riever yet saw a gentleman's coachman who could drive 
four horses that he had been unaccustomed to: they make 
the worst stage-coachmen of any men who have been in the 
habit of driving at all: they have been so used to horses 
all matched in step and temper that they are absolutely 
lost v/ith any others. I would put any one of the best 
London coachmen, who drives four-in-hand occasionally, 
behind some teams over a thirteen-mile stage: here he would 
not only fail in keeping his time to perhaps half an hour, but 
would very likely, if with something like three tons and a 
half behind him, not get them home at all, or, at all events, 
would bring them to that enviable state wdiere three stand 
still, while (as Matthews used to say) he whops the fourth. 
Coachmanship is therefore to be showm in various ways, as 
well as the want of it, and is exhibited under as various 
circumstances. Show me the man who would, as Mn 
Agar did, (I believe it was Mr. Agar,) bring his four-in- 
hand out of Grosvenor Place, down Messrs. Tattersall's 
passage into the yard, round the cupola there, and back 
again into Grosvenor Place; the whole done each horse all 
the time in a trot — a feat unprecedented in the annals of 
coachmanship, and one never before, or I believe since, at- 
tempted. Here is a proof of what fine hands and horses 
properly bitted can do. Look at Batty or the late Ducrow 
driving, or rather riding and driving, their horses with long 
reins round the arena: there is also a proof of what hands 
and proper training can do with the same animal we sec 
pulled and hauled about, wdiipped and punished by animals 
on two legs, with scarcely more intellect than their quad- 
ruped victims. The Petersburg driver, with his bells and 
sleigh, is equally a coachman in his way. The Canadian 
S 



86 "A CONSUMMATION DEVOUTLY TO BE 

recklessly, as it appears to us, crosses his corduroy roads'3, 
drives over half-formed bridges, or down declivities, with 
his pole three feet above his horses' heads, in a way none 
here could do it. The condiicieur of the Paris diligence 
brings his five horses, with his toiun behind them, in a trot 
into the inn-yard at Calais. All three are coachmen in 
their way, and, rmitatis mutandis, none of them could 
perform the parts of the other. I have no doubt but to da 
each well requires about an equal share of intellect and 
practice. 

1 trust, by what 1 have already said, I have shown that 
driving, to do it well, should be learnt scientifically,, and 
that there is much more danger in trusting ourselves in the 
hands of persons ignorant of these matters than is generally 
supposed. My object lias been, not to instruct, but to induce 
some abler pei'son to do sa. If I succeed in this desirable 
object, I can only say I shall read such a work with much 
interest; and, aware as I am that I have much to learn, I 
doubt not, if such a work is written by one qualified far the 
task, I shall be convinced I have much more to learn than 
I at pi'esent imag^ine. I hope the generality of persons 
will estimate their own pretensions in the same way, for, 
whatever th^y may think, it would be much to the advan- 
tage and safety of themselves, their friends, their horses, 
and the public, that they should do so. 



87 
THE MARTINGAL. 

■*' Humanum sura, niliil a me alicnum puto," 

I HAVE used the above quotationj being quite aware tbat 
my subject will appear at first to be one of very minor im- 
portance. So it would, had I chosen a perch-bolt as a sub- 
ject to write about. Now a perch-bolt most persons know 
is a common-place round piece of iron of some nine or ten 
inches long;, and of about one in diameter; yet upon this 
simple piece of iron depends in a great degree (or rather 
depended when perches were more in use) the limbs and 
lives of perhaps some sixteen or eighteen passengers. I 
mention this to show on what trifles we often rely for our 
safety or comfort, or perhaps !:oth; and if I can show that 
we owe both these to a martingal, it will appear, that, small 
and slight as it is in bulk and strength, and trifling as it is 
in value, it is not altogether a subject of such utter insigni- 
ficance as may be supposed. Should 1 fail to do this, I 
shall not only candidly allow, but strenuously maintain^ 
that the fault rests with the stupidity of the writer, and not 
from the want of utility in his subject. As I never ven- 
ture to write on any subject from theoretical principles, but 
draw my premises from practical experience, I am quite 
willing to admit that where 1 am wrong I have very little 
excuse to bring forward, and must take it for granted that 
with me the bump of intellectuality is very faintly deve- 
loped, if developed at all. For 1 am in about tlie same si- 
tuation as a man who has passed the last t%venty years of 
his life cutting pegs for shoemakers. If, during that time, 
he has not learned the best mode of making a point to a 
wooden peg, what a glorious fellow he must hel I will 
tell you, reader, what he must be — he must be as stupid a 
fellow as myself, if I am wrong. As, however, 1 am sure 
that ail 1 write is not wrong, i beg to remark that I throw 
out my ideas just as the husbandman does his chaff" from the 
barn-door^, leashing my readers to pick out the few grains of 



S3 MARTINGALS AND MUSTACHIOy. 

corn it contains, rejecting the rest, or the whole together, 
just as it suits their judgment or fancy. 

Little as this suhject may call for any very erudite pole- 
mical discussion, its use or disuse has nevertheless given 
i-ise to many differences of opinion among riding men; and 
though all perhaps quite competent judges of horses and 
horsemanship, still prejudice or habit has induced them to 
form very opposite opinions of its merits — some at once 
anathematizing the martingal as an adjunct only used by 
those resolved on self-destruction, as in fact a kind of sui- 
cidal instrument, the sure prelude to an inquest oi felo de 
se; whilst others as strongly advocate its utility. Among 
those who ride, but are not horsemen — which comprise at 
least ninety-nine out of a hundred of those who do ride — 
1 scarcely ever found one who at the bare mention of a 
martingal did not at once exclaim against it; and though 
they might not exhibit quite as much horror in their coun- 
tenance as Priam did of old when he found the ghost wish- 
ing to cultivate his acquaintance in his bed-room, still 
throwing a very sufficient degree of terror into their looks 
at the idea of using one, and a very fair proportion of sur- 
prise and contempt at my ignorance in offering a word in 
its favour, though you might see them very composedly 
riding the next day on some stumbling brute absolutely 
fastened down by a nose martingal. And why? because 
they were not aware it was a martingal, and one of a really 
dangerous description. If 3^ou asked them why they had 
it put on, probably half of them could give no better rea- 
son than that they thought it looked well. Probably the 
same man could give you about as good a reason for wear- 
ing mustachios. U he had but an ostrich feather stuck in 
his horse's tail, or his own, they would be complete. 

I have mentioned one description of martingal as being 
a very useful adjunct; of another, as in nine cases out of 
ten as useless ; and in the way it is generally put on more 
or less a dangerous appendage to a horse's head. 1 will 
presently state my reasons for these opinions; but, first, 
we will enumerate the different kinds of martingals in use. 
The term martingal I consider as applicable to any thing 
we attach to a horse's head in order to keep him from 
raising it higher than we wish; and I consider there are 



THE REARING BIT. S9 

five difTerent modes of doing this, all o[ which may be 
termed martingals. 

First, the running rein (as we generally call it,) which 
is fastened to the girths, passes through the ring of the 
snaffle, and thence to the hand. By this, if a man knows 
what he is ahout, and has hands, he can bring his horse's 
head as low as he pleases, and keep it there. This is of 
great use to a regular star-gazer, but should never be put 
on to any other. 

Second 1}^, we have the running rein fastened near the 
points of the saddle, and, as the other, passing through 
the snaffle-rings to the hands. This is commonly applied 
to young horses, and is of the greatest use in keeping their 
heads steady, in proper place, and preventing them from 
avoiding the restraint of the bit by throwing them up. 
Now with both these assistants a man may add to or relax 
th.eir restraint by his hands, or, in more riding phrase, may 
give and take with his horse: in fact, no description of bri- 
dle or martingal is fit for general use that in any way pre- 
vents his doing this to its fullest extent. 

We will call No. 3 the racing-martingal, coming from 
the girths to the hand-reins. This is the martingal whose 
utility I contend for C07i amore. 

No. 4 is the severest of all descriptions of martingals, 
and only to be used on a very determined rearing or plun- 
ging horse, and as a severe punishment in case he does 
either. It consists of a ring of iron made in the shape of 
a heart, with rings on each side to fasten the head-stall to, 
and two more near the bottom to receive two billets, 
which end in a strap that goes to the girths, supported by 
the neck-strap, similar to the one in common use to the 
racing or hunting martingal. The strap, going to the girths, 
may of course be lengthened or shortened to any degree, 
by which latter process the severity of the restraint is in- 
creased. The way it should be put on is this. Put the 
wide part of the bit in the mouth, and the narrow part un- 
der the jaw; the headstall must be left just long enough to 
allow the bit to rest on the bars of the mouth, behind the 
tusks, and beneath the riding bit (of whatever kind that 
may be;) then bring your horse's head as low as you wish 
it to be. If he is only moderately restiff, about the or- 

8* 



00 A SET-TO. 

(Unary place in which a head should he in a gallop will 
do: if he is more violent, or is apt to rear, but not danger- 
ously, bring his nose to about a level with the point where 
the neck is set into the chest: if he is a determined rogue, 
an old offender, and one disposed to hog up his back, 
plunge violently, and then vary the entertainment by rear- 
ing, so as to leave it an equal bet whether he falls back- 
wards or qot, bring my gentleman's nose nearly on a level 
with the point where the forearm is set into the shoulder. 
In either of these cases, fasten his head to the level 
you bring it to by the strnp going to the girths, and mind 
the strap be of sufficient strength to prevent iiis breaking 
it. Should he set plunging, which he is likely enough to 
do on finding himself restrained, it then becomes, in magic- 
lantern terms, ''pull devil, pull baker;" it is, in short, 
which tires first — the martingal holding him, or he hurting 
his mouth in trying to break the martingal. "Ten to one 
on martingal:'' martingal has it all the way, and wins in a 
canter. I have seen several set-to's in this vvay, but never 
saw a different result, or any thing even like a dead heat. 

I should always recommend as a proper precaution, the 
first time this martingal (or rearing-bit as it is called) is 
put on, that it be tried in a meadow, or some place where 
a horse cannot bark his knees or hocks, should he throw 
himself down, which, though rarely the case, he might do, 
if a very determined one, when restrained to a very great 
degree for the first time. I never saw one do so, however 
vicious, but it might happen; nor did I ever see one that 
was not cowed after a few plunges. He gets such a les- 
son in a few miqutes, that he generally leaves the da capo 
to leas experienced pupils. The great merit of this bit 
with a plunger or rearer is, that it makes him practically 
feel that whenever he attempts to do wrong he hurts him- 
self; and he also finds he is so completely bafiled in every 
attempt at violence, that he gives it up, or in recent slang, 
ciLts it. The way it acts is simply this: before a horse 
plunges or rears, he is sure to begin by flinging his head 
about, and this he generally does suddenly : the moment 
he does so, or flings it up, the bit acts on\he bars of his 
mouth, and being firmly held by the strap to the girths, 
po elasticity or ^^ielding can take place j consequently he 



WON THE FIRST ROUND. 91 

gets a positive sharp blow on the bars every time he calls 
the bit into action. He soon finds this out; finds also he 
cannot break it, and submits: in short, is completely sub- 
dued. I do not mean to say it would be impossible for a 
horse to rear with this bit on, inasmuch as we see a goat 
do so, with his nose between his forelegs; but the goat has 
been practising this all his life; the horse has not, nor did 
I ever see one attempt the feat. The same thing holds 
good with plunging: he cannot well plunge and keep his 
head quiet; and if he does not keep it so with this bit on, 
I wish him joy. 

I had a horse which had sense enough to be quite aware 
that though a canter with light summer clothes on and six 
stone on his back was rather a pleasant recreation, a four- 
mile sweat with heavy sweaters and eight stone over them, 
was toute une auire chose: in short, he knew as well when 
he was to sweat as I did. His usual exercise lad could not 
(ret him along at any pace at all, and when a stronger 
and consequently heavier lad was put up, though he by 
dint of a good ash-plant and rating him might hustle him 
along for a couple of miles, m.ore or less, before he had got 
him more than half his proper sweating-distance, he would 
begin shaking his head, throwing it as high as the martin- 
gal would let him, then throw it nearly to the ground, and 
away he would bolt any where, in spite of fate, or at 
least of any lad. I got one of these bits for him, put it on 
moderately tight, and sent him up the gallop: he began 
liis old tricks, but found himself hampered; had a short 
light, was beat, and never attempted the least resistance 
afterwards. I must, however, remark, that this bit, or 
martingal, whichever we may term it, is by far too severe 
to be trusted in the hands of any common groom, who it 
generally happens has no riding hands at all; but, with the 
management of a man who has, it is in extreme cases a 
very useful and efficacious assistant. 

No. 5, and last, comes the nose-martingal. This is a 
very mild counterpart of the last; and its being in any de- 
gree a counterpart is the very reason why I reprobate its 
use for general purposes, for which, as I before said, no bit or 
martingal can be proper where we are, as with both these, 
unable to relieve our horse of its restraint by our hands, 



92 RATHER HARD TO PLEASE. 

This martingal, like the rearing one, fastens to the girths; no 
elasticity or yielding exists here; but the reason why this 
does not possess the severity of the former is, the one acts on 
the horse's mouth, this only on his nose; but even this is 
often made a mode of punishment, or, to say the least, of great 
annoyance to the horse if he is ridden by a man with had 
hands. A rider of this sort never keeps them down; conse- 
quently he is constantly pulling his horse's head up: the poor 
brute naturally gets into the habit of poking out his nose 
and carrying his head too high, and, in order to get some 
relief for his mouth, keeps continually tossing his head up, 
by no means a pleasant trick to the rider, Vv^hatever it may 
be to the horse, particularly if he happens to be one who 
foams at the mouth, and is ridden against the wind. That 
all this has been taught him by bad hands never enters his 
rider's head; consequently on goes a nose-martingal: this 
remedies the evil, it is true, but the result is, the poor 
horse is punished for tlie rider's awkwardness: for, mind, 
he makes no difference in the position, and consequent ef- 
fects of his hands; so it just amounts to this, the martingal 
pulls the horse's head down, and the gentleman pulls it up; 
and thus his mouth is kept in a kind of vice of the rider's 
own invention — (I wish he would take out a patent for 
it to prevent any one else from imitating it.) If It is not 
put on short enough to produce the wished-for effect, it 
is useless: if it is, it is converted into a mode of punish- 
ing a well-disposed animal, which would willingly learn 
to carry his head as the rider would wish him, if he had 
knowledge enough and hands good enough to teach him 
how to do so. 1 am only surprised a horse does not at 
once turn sulky and restitf under such unreasonable treat- 
ment; for were he endowed with the useful faculty of speech, 
would he not naturally say, "If 1 attempt to carry m}^ head 
high in compliance witb your hands, a strap on my nose pulls 
it down; if, in obedience to that, 1 attempt to carry it low, 
your hands pull it up: pray, sir, how am I to carry it?" 

But there is one occasion in which I could tolerate the 
use of the nose martingal, and that is in harness, where 
horses have learnt this truly annoying habit of constantly 
tossing up their heads: and here again I am satisfied it in 
fact arises from improper treatment, namely, having horses 



NECESSARY, IF NOT QUITE JUST. 93 

kept on a tight gagging or bearing rein till their necks 
ache to that degree that they are fain to throw their heads up 
to gain a temporary relief from an unnatural and conse- 
quently painful position. This habit having been attained, 
no matter from what cause, we must endeavour to cure 
him of it, which it will require a little justifiable severity 
to effect. The rearing-bit will do this in a very few days; 
first of course taking off or easing the bearing-rein, then 
put on the rearing-bit, but loose, so as in no way to restrain 
or inconvenience him so long as he carries his head at any 
reasonable or allowable height. But the moment he tosses 
it up, he gets a rap on his jaw; and this occurring as often 
as he repeats the offence, a few hints will suffice. This 
is better than constantly using a nose martingal, even in 
harness. 

I may be asked why I so decidedly object to the nose 
martingal for general use in riding, while, as will be shortly 
seen, I as strongly advocate the use of the racing-martin- 
gal when it is in the slightest degree required? My ob- 
jection to the nose martingal then is this: if a horse makes 
a blunder, whether a trifling one, or one likely to end in a 
pair of broken knees, up goes his head; now though this is 
by no means necessary to enable him to recover himself, 
but on the contrary prevents the rider helping him to do 
so, still, from the very sudden violence with which he 
generally chucks his head up, the nose-band gives him vir- 
tually a sharp blow on his nose. It would be rather a 
curious experiment, if we saw a horse falling, to give him 
a blow with a stick on the front of his nose to induce him 
to exert himself to raise his fore-quarters. I should say it 
would rather help him to fall plump on his knees ; yet the 
«6>.9e-martingal in a limited sense positively does this: 
should he recover himself (in spite of this,) the next time 
he commits a similar faux pas^ he remembers the blow 
he got the last time, and is afraid to exert himself, dread- 
ing a similar return for his exertion; for the rider cannot 
of course in any way cause the Jixed martingal to relax 
one inch of its tension, which with all other martingals ex- 
cept the rearing-bit he can do. For ladies (who more fre- 
quently use the nose-martingal than men) I hold it in ut- 
ter dread and abhorrence, unless put on so very long as 



94 BAD HABITS SHOITLD BE ALTERED FOR LADIES. 

merely to act if the horse tosses his head so high as to 
greatly annoy them. Even in this case I should say, cure 
laim of the habit, then he will not want any martingal at 
5ill. 13ut if he is so incorrigible as to render the /le^e-mar- 
tingal necessary, he will never be fit to carry a woman : 
«et rid of him at once, unless you want a chance of getting 
rid of the lady. This common courtesy obliges us to con- 
sider as an impossibility even among married men. 

Having now vented my spleen on all and every fixed 
martingal, except on very particular occasions — and which 
I trust will occur to my readers about as often as angels' 
visits, or those of real friends — I will venture my opinion 
on the use of the simple racing or hunting martingal, to 
which I never found but one objection during twenty-five 
years of hunting experience. Without a little attention, it 
will sometimes, when you are opening a gate, catch the 
upright bar; and in very thick strong coverts it sometimes 
is caught by a straggling bough. This little occasional in- 
convenience is, however, counterbalanced a hundred-fold 
h^ its general utility. I do not of course mean that it is 
useful on a horse who does all you wish, and nothing that 
you do not wish, without one. If his head and neck are 
so formed by nature that he carries them both in a proper 
place, we cannot improve on nature: but unless this is de- 
cidedly the case, practical experience has taught me that a 
martingal can alone ensure our comfort and safety, and en- 
able us to render our horse obedient to the rein, which we 
never can make him if his head is in an improper degree 
of elevation. We will suppose, that from carelessness, the 
pole-pin of a carriage has not been properly put in, or put 
in at all ; we probably find no inconvenience arise from it 
so long as we go on a level road or up hill: but suppose, 
on beginning to descend the hill, we find the end of the 
pole on a level with our horses' ears, I can make a quota- 
tion tolerably apt to our situation— yhc///* descensus 
Jiuerni, I think we should wish there had been such a 
thing invented as a pole martingal. A horse getting his 
head up is not perhaps likely to lead to so serious a catas- 
trophe: but whenever he does get it proportionably above 
the proper level, we have no more command of him than 
of the carriage. I believe every riding man (I mean hor.se- 



TOUNGT HEADS AND OLD HANDS. 95 

man) will allow that all our command over a horse while 
riding him both begins and ends in our command over 
his mouth. This 1 shall consider as a point given. I 
have thus endeavoured to prove getting his head up loses 
us this command : if this point is also ceded to me, I think 
we may fairly come to the conclusion, that whatever pre- 
vents his doing that by which we do lose our command of 
him is a resource never to be dispensed with where we run 
the slightest chance of wanting it, and this resource is of 
course the martingal. 

I do not know whether race-horses were better tem- 
pered a hundred years ago than they are now, whether 
they had better mouths, or jockeys had better hands (I 
should think none of these suppositions likely to have 
been the fact;) but certainly long since that period mar- 
tingais were but rarely used in races; now we as rarely 
see a race ridden without one. This may probably arise 
from more two-3'ear-olds being brought to the Post than 
there were in the time ef our forefathers. These young 
ones, we know, take at times all sorts of freaks and gam- 
bols ; and, let me ask, what could any man do with these 
ivithout being able to command their mouths? Of course, 
nothing. They would be all over the course, or perhaps 
out of it, just as their fancies led them ; nor could all the 
Chifneys, Scotts, or Days in England get them together 
at the Post. The martingal has been found to steady the 
heads of such horses, and to enable the jockey to keep 
them in command while running. This has probably led 
to its general use on almost all race-horses: if therefore a 
perfect command of a horse's mouth has been found ne- 
cessary on a level race-course, it must be also necessary 
when we ride over all descriptions of ground and all de- 
scriptions of fences. 

1 have heard many persons express a fear that in hunt- 
ing a martingal would confine a horse, and perhaps prevent 
his rising at his leaps. I have heard others at once assert 
that it did, yet allowing at the same time that they had 
never tried one. I cannot but think the latter gentlemen 
rather too fast. Now, as I have before stated, 1 have not 
only tried them, but constantly used them on every horse 
I ever rode that in the slightest degree wanted one; 



96 THE POLES MAY MEET. 

and I have universally found it to be the case, that when- 
ever he does want a martingal, he will be made to rise 
better at his fences with one than without one. In illus- 
tration of this, I must again allude to the demi-perpendi^ 
cular pole. We will suppose that we wanted the fore- 
Wheels of the carriage to rise so as to get over any obstacle 
on the road, would the pole rising up in the manner I 
have described in the remotest way contribute to raise the 
wheels? Not at all: the pole only would rise, the wheels 
would remain dead on the ground. We will say by 
way of hypothesis that the carriage is a living object: the 
four wheels correspond to the legs of a horse, the body to 
his body, and the pole to his head and neck: the driving 
seat is the fulcrum from which we act. If we wished to 
induce the carriage to elevate its forepart, should we take 
out the pole-pin, when by so doing we could affect nothing 
but the pole itself.'' I humbly conceive we should rather 
take care that the pole was retained in its proper place; 
then, by acting on its extremity, the carriage, finding it 
could not lift up its pole alone, would lift up its foreparts 
altogether. Now I consider we act in a very similar 
manner on a horse, and that a loose-necked one, with or 
without a martingal, bears a close affinity to a carriage witii 
or without a pole-pin. In fact, if 1 may use the expression 
without having a pun added to my other sins, our great 
object is to keep both Wiqw jjoles in their proper places. 

I have attempted giving something like an ocular de- 
monstration of what 1 mean, by scratching with my pen in 
a rough way the parts of three horses, which, from the 
downward inclination of their bodies, may be supposed to 
be either coming over a di'op-leap, descending a steep de- 
clivity, or tumbling on their knees whichever the read(^r 
pleases to imagine, tor in either case all the support we 
can give is by the bridle, or, in more sporting phrase, 
keeping fast hold of their heads. " Keep fast hold of his 
head, Jem," is no uncommon direction to an exercise-lad. 
This is all very well and very proper where it can be 
done; but I should like to see the lad or man who could 
do so with a devil carrying his head like No. 1. 'i'he 
rein on the martingal shows where the head should be, 
and would be if the martingal was used, but where it is, 



1,2, 3, AND AWAY," IN DIFFERENT WAYS. 



97 



wc have ao eartlily hold of the hrute. No. 2, has his head 
in a position that may enable a man just to guide him; but 
any support is out of the question: attempt to give it, and 
his head would go to position No. 1. Now No. 3, has his 
head just in the place that would enable the rider to give 
him support, and by throwing his body back, and slightly 
clapping the spurs to his horse's sides, he would inducti 
him in a drop-leap to throw out his forelegs, or, if in the 
act of blundering, would prevent his actually coming on 
his knees. 




I have thus far endeavoured to show that 



permitting a 



horse to throw up his head when and as high as he pleases 
can in no way be advantageous, and that preventing his 
doing so can, by no mode of reasoning, be attended by 
disadvantage, 1 have not yet done with arguments to 
prove this. I conceive most men will agree with me that 
a horse which does not require any martingal is preferable 
to the ane that does. Why does the one require none? 
Simply because he never puts his head in a position to re- 
quire one. He does all we can ask a horse to do, carrying, 
his head properly. If he does this, it must be quite clear' 
that an undue elevation of the head is quite unnecessary 
in any necessary exertion, and that preventing a loose- 
necked horse doing that which no perfect horse ever at- 
tempts, can in no way curtail his powers or action on the 
road or in the field. In short, he can do every thing at 
his ease, except look out for the Aurora Borealis; and I 
conceive his astronomical researches can be dispensed with 
without prejudice to his value. 

I have been led to a much greater length than I intend- 
ed by this subject. I shall therefore only make another 
remark or two upon it. Let it be remembered, that if we 
do confine a horse too much by a martingal, it can only 
arise, first, from its being put on too short, and, next, from 
the rider's want of judgment and hands. The man whey 



98 HATS OFF. 

possesses these always can and will give Iifs horse all the 
liberty required for his safety and comfort as well as that 
of his rider, while hunting or on the road. I shall only 
add, that 1 would never put a bad rider on a horse of my 
own without a martingal: for then, give him an easy snaffle^, 
and he may keep his hands where he pleases, up to his ears> 
or in his pockets. My horse's mouth will not be affected 
by them ! 

Finding new that my pen has got her head up, and ha& 
for some time been going away with me much farther than 
I intended she should have done, the reader will I dare 
say be glad to find that I here punish her by clapping ort 
martingal No. 4. This has stopped her career, and affords 
me the opportunity of very respectfully taking my leave;. 



99 



HEAD, HANDS, AND HEELS. 

On reading the heading of the following pages many 
may indulge in a little satire, and say, "Ohi we see Hie'- 
OVER is driven to extremities." Now, if I was under any 
engagement or even promise to supply a certain quantity 
of pages to Maga, 1 have not a sufficiently good opinion 
of the fecundity of my brain to doubt for a minute that I 
should very shortly be driven to extremity, but as this 
is in no way the ease, I beg to assure any one who has 
made such a remark, that the shaft of his satire falls per- 
fectly innocuous, and though I do select the extremities 
of the hum.an body as subjects to make a few observations 
upon, it is not the extremity of the case that induces me to 
do so. 

The head par excellence is generally considered as en- 
titled to more respect than those other extremities to which 
I have alluded; not that I consider it is by any means 
always entitled to this pre-eminence, for we very often 
find it to be the least effective part of many people. We 
have people with w^eak heads, and shallow heads (and these 
great people too;) nay, we have had such things as even 
ministers with such heads; and, ^Hnfandum Reginajuhes 
renovare dolor em,'''' we have had kings and queens without 
any heads at all; though, as I conclude, after the little cere- 
mony of decapitation had been gone through, the sove- 
reignty probably ceased. I must most willingly recall my 
assertion of there having been kings and queens without 
heads, though "when that this body did contain a spirit," 
it was a sovereign. My humble observations shall not, 
however, soar so high, but content themselves by merely 
alluding to that plebeian sort of head that is necessary for 
common sporting and riding purposes; and for these, let 
me assure my readers, more head is required to do the 
thing ivell than many may imagine. This leads me to 
mention an anecdote I once overheard. A wicked young 
dog of a riding-boy in my stables remarked to a regular 



100 head! 

chaw-bacon of a fellow who was fillhig a dung cart, that 
'^^no one but a born fool would stand fillinc; a (hing cart." 
— "Wouldn't he?" says Whapstraw; "why there's twice 
as much room each side of the cart as there is in it, so a 
born fool would throw two forkfuls each side and one in !" 
Now it certainly is not necessary that the calibre of a 
man's mind should be of extraordinary diameter to fill a 
dung-cart; still, ^'sic parvis comjjonere magna solebam,^^ 
there was a good deal of pith in Whapstraw^s remark; and 
if we could so far overcome our amour j^^^ op re as to apply 
it to ourselves before we undertake a thing, we should 
much less frequently find ourselves "nowhere" than we 
do. 

But to allude to the head as it relates to the management of 
horses. — The first proof of the w^ant of head is exemplified 
in the breeder: he goes on either making injudicious crosses, 
or breeds in-and-in till he yearly produces that nondescript 
sort of animal that we daily see, and which is not calcu- 
lated for any one useful purpose. He is made, it is true, 
to do a something, but he only does that something some- 
how, and can do nothing well. The same trouble and 
expense would have produced a really good sort of ani- 
mal for at least some purpose, but the breeder wanted a 
head. 

Then, to make things worse, the animal (I will not call 
him a horse) is put into the hands of some Yahoo of a 
country-breaker: he, I will back at twenty (or a hundred 
if you wish it) to one, wants a head; and consequently it 
will be found, that if he gets an awkward ill-disposed colt 
into his hands, he makes him worse; and give him a clever 
promising one, he turns him out of his hands a brute. I 
fully maintain, that a man to break young horses should 
be (to a certain extent) a man of education, at least of suf- 
ficient education to have taught him to think; but, unfor- 
tunately, any totally ignorant fellow who happens to have 
a firm seat, strong arms, strong nerve, and of course an 
enormous whip, fancies he possesses all the requisites of a 
colt-breaker, l&y opposing brute force to brute force, he 
certainly generally succeeds in making the colt carry quiet 
when turned out of his hands, kept down by work, and 
often by low keep; but he has most probably so far ruined 



SCIONS OF A NOBLE STOCK. 101 

Ihe temper of the horse as to make him fear and hate the 
very sight of a rider; and so soon as from proper keep 
and ordinary work the horse recovers his spirits, we hnd 
we have a wilful restiff beast on our hands. Most pro- 
bably he is then sent back to the same breaker, who, by the 
same means he used before, again puts him into the stable 
of the owner quiet, with this exception, that his temper is 
worse than before, which he will not fail to show so soon 
as he has ^opportunity and spirits to do so. Now let a 
trainer for the turf get a colt into his hands, first to break, 
and then train, how widely different is his management of 
a young one! These persons have generally some head, 
which if they have not acquired by education they have 
by practical experience, from having been generally through 
the duty of extra lad, regular riding-boy, riding the light 
weights, head-lad, probably jockey, and finally trainer. J3y 
this time, the man has learned to think, to combine cir- 
cumstances, to look to causes and effects, to study the dif- 
ferent tempers of horses, to circumvent, by his superior 
sense, experience and cunning, their cunning and evil pro- 
pensities, of which some possess a very considerable share. 
J^y evil propensities, I do not mean absolute vice, for very 
few young horses are naturally vicious; but still they have 
various tricks and propensities that would shortly degene- 
rate into absolute and most determined vice if they were 
put into the hands of a common country colt-breaker. I 
do not consider that young racing colts are on an average 
naturally more vicious than other colts; but I have always 
found them disposed to play those pranks that coarser-bred 
horses seldom dream of. In short, if I may use the ex- 
pression to a horse, they are alwa3's ready for a lark if 
you give them the slightest chance. Now if, in one of 
these larks, they were to throw a boy off, and which they 
certainly would do or attempt to do if he began taking im- 
proper liberties with them, the colt will probably become 
trickey ever afterwards; and if he does, he becomes of lit- 
tle use as a race-horse. To render these colts steady and 
amenable to the hand and will of the rider and jockey re- 
quires more patience, contrivance, foresight, and head than 
many people imagine, ^i'hey must not be allowed to have 
their o.vn way with you: you must have your own way 

'9* 



102 PREVENTION BETTER THAN CUP.E. 

with them (of course supposing it to be a right one.) They 
must be brought to a state of subjection; but at the same 
time they must neither be flurried nor frightened, and must 
be on high feeding. Starving down would not do here: 
no damp must be put on their spirits: the stamina must be 
kept up, and you have a high-couraged animal to deal with: 
if he is once provoked sufliciently to exert his powers, once 
comes to know them, by getting the best of the set-to, 
which in such a case he is very likely to do, no race-horse 
will ever he be. 

Now the difference of the system of the common colt- 
breaker and the trainer is this: the first, by punishment 
and brute force, breaks his colt of doing wrong: the latter 
teaches his to do right: he takes care to avoid his being 
placed in situations and under circumstances that might 
induce him to rebel. Let the common breaker get a colt 
that is nervous, timid, and apt to be frightened at any thing 
he meets or sees, what would he do? He would take the 
horse purposely vv^here he would be sure to meet constant 
objects to alarm him: every time he starts, the whip and 
spurs go to work — in other words, the heels: now, if he 
had a head that was of any use to him, lie would reflect a 
little, and this would show him the folly and brutish igno- 
rance of his conduct. So because the colt is alarmed al- 
ready by what he sees, he frightens him ten times more by 
voice, whip, and spur. Hence we so often find that after 
a horse has shied, say at a carriage, when the object has 
passed it takes a considerable time before he becomes paci- 
fied. All this arises from the dread of punishment which 
he has been accustomed to. Horses have good memories, 
and do not easily forget ill usage. We frequently see a 
man (if he be not a timid rider,) on his horse refusing to 
face an object, determine that he shall do it, and imme- 
diately forces him up to it: the very exertion used to make 
him do this increases his terror of it, and a fight ensues, 
when, should the rider gain his point and get him up to the 
object, the moment his head is turned to leave it he bolts 
off as quickly as possible: he has not been reconciled to it, 
and will shy at it just as much (perhaps more) the next 
time he sees it; for now he recognises it as an enemy, and 
has been taught to know by experience what he only fearcci 



ADDING FUEL TO FIRE. 103 

before: namely, that it was a something that would (and 
as he found did) cause him annoyance and injury. Had 
the rider, as soon as he found his horse alarmed on seein^i- 
this object, stopped him, let him stand still, caressed and 
encouraged him, the horse would have looked at it, and, 
finding no attempt made to injure him, would have gra- 
dually approached it; then smelt at it (if a stationary ob- 
ject,) and finally have walked away coolly, collectedl}^, and 
satisfied, and the next time he saw it, or a similar object, 
would care very little about it. A little reflection would 
tell us that these would be the difierent results of the two 
difierent treatments; but, unfortunately for horses, reflec- 
tion and consideration are not the predominant qualities of 
the generality of horse-breakers or grooms. Race-horses, 
it is true, are not used much on the public roads, still they 
frequently have to go there, and as on a race-course they 
must see all kinds of strange sights, it is quite as necessary 
to teach them to face such objects without alarm as any 
other horse. Indeed a race-horse liable to be alarmed by 
crowds or noises never could be depended upon; but they 
are taught to be fearless of both, and in rather a difierent 
manner from that used by tlie colt-breaker or groom. Now 
we will suppose a trainer had a colt which was easily 
alarmed by passing objects, other horses galloping near 
him, or persons coming up to him, how would he be treated? 
he would be sent away by himself, where it was certain no 
objects would approach close enough to alarm him: here he 
would be exercised, whether for three days or three weeks, 
till he had gained composure and confidence: he would 
then be brought a little nearer the subjects of his alarm, 
where they might attract his observation, but could in no 
ways annoy or frighten him. Day by day he would be 
brought still nearer to them, till they became so familiar to 
him that he would cease to notice them at all, or merely 
as indifierent objects. iVssuredly this is rather a more 
reasonable mode of treatment than the one generally re- 
sorted to, and, what is more, it never fails — the fault or in- 
firmity is got over, and for ever. 

Th.ere is one description of horse uith whicli I might be 
temj)ted perhaps to oblige a common colt-breaker; namely, 
gome brute which appeared so incorrigibly sulky and vi- 



104 THE WEAK GO TO THE WALL. 

cious that I might not wish men who were valuable for 
better purposes to undergo the trouble and risk of having 
any thing to do with him; not but that I should be quite 
aware that a man with a better head would be more likely 
to succeed; but for the reasons I state, I would perhaps 
give the savage to one of these kill-or-cure gentry, and let 
the two brutes fight it out. 

As I said before, all men about horses require head, but 
few more so than a trainer; not that there is any mystery 
in training: proper feeding, properly watering, proper phy- 
sic, exercise, work, and sweating, are all the means that 
can be employed to bring a race horse into the highest or 
rather best condition his constitution is capable of: but it is 
improperly administering and adapting all and each of tliese 
to each, part'tcular horse where the head of the trainer is 
required; and in doing this is shown the difference between 
the mere practical trainer and the man who has discrimi- 
nation enough to watch his treatment as it affects these 
different horses, and vary it accordingly — that is, if he will 
give himself the trouble to think about the subject. This 
requires a degree of integrity and devotion to the interest 
of his employer that ^\Qxy man is not disposed to show, 
and ingenuity and mind that few men in such situations 
possess. This leads me to make a few remarks on large 
and first-rate racing or training establisliivionts. These are 
no places to send a third or fourth rate race-horse to: first- 
rate trainers hate even second-rate horses: they feel they 
will do them no credit: their whole and sole attention is 
devoted to the pets or flyers of their stables; while the in- 
ferior horses (who by-the-by require the greatest attention 
to their training, in order as much as possible to make su- 
perior condition make amends as far as it will go, for their 
want of speed or stoutness) are turned over to the head- 
lad, and may think themselves fortunate if they engross 
much of his attention: consequently, bad as they may be, 
they are rendered worse from their not being brought out 
in their best form. A very little from being ciuiie right 
will bring a first-rater to the level of a second: what t!ien 
will, being very far from up to his mark, bring an inferior 
horse to? why, he will have no chance v/ith any thing but 
a road wagon when brouglit out to run, 



A PROMISING BARGAIN. 105 

There can be no doubt but many valuable race-horses 
are lost by the obstinacy and prejudice of trainers: they 
take a dislike to a colt; fancy he can't be good: what 
is the consequence? the owner of course wishes him to be 
tried. Now a horse requires to be pretty much in the 
same condition to be fairly tried as he does to race. This 
unfortunate colt will not be got into this condition; takes 
his trial, and of course is beaten by the more favoured ones 
"as they like:" the trainer's prognostic is fulfilled (nobody 
eould doubt that,) the bill is paid, the colt is sold by 
Messrs. Tattersall, and "so m.uch for Buckingham." It 
is quite certain that the best trainei^ and the most en- 
lightened men in their business are tlie best men to send a 
horse to; that is, if they will exert their knowledge and 
abilities in his favour: but if they will not, though they 
may have a head, their not using it is as fatal to the horse 
and his owner as if they had no head at all. 

I can exemplify a little of the effects of trainers dis- 
liking a horse by a case in point. 1 bought a horse — which 
had been in a public training establishment — he was a bad 
one at best, and, what was worse, a nervous, fretful, and at 
all times a very difficult and vicious one to dress. He 
had run several times, and never won, nor had a chance of 
winning any thing. When I bought him, he had not an 
ounce of flesh or muscle on his bones, and looked as 
blooming in his coat as a singed cat, and she with the hair 
turned the wrong way: in fact, I took him in exchange for 
an unpromising yearling, or I should never have got him. 
Now it required no great share of head to see that some- 
thing in his treatment had been wrong, and that, bad as he 
was, he had been made worse. What that wrong was forty- 
eight hours were sufficient to show: he looked frightened 
to death, and in the stable was ready with his heels the 
moment any one went near him, as if he expected that 
whoever did intended him some grievous bodily harm: in 
short, he had been over-worked, got frightened at his 
work, and equally frightened in the stable. The latter 
part of the story I found out before he had been in the 
box half an hour, from hearing the boy who brought him, 
and was attempting to dress him, bullying him all the time 
he was doing so. " Thinks I to myself, if you lived with 



106 AN IMPROVING PUPIL. 

me, I need not wish (for I know) you would get it. I 
threw the horse totally out of work, and gave him long 
walking exercise by himself, with a particularly placid 
good-tempered boy on his back, till he came to his appe- 
tite, and made the boy during this time invariably give 
him his oats out of a bowl from his hand. This brought 
them on good terms with each other, and in one month 
this boy could do any thing he pleased with him. 1 then 
put him gradually to work, gave him two sweats where in 
his former hands he would have had a dozen. He gained 
confidence with himself and with people; I ran him five 
times, taking care to put him where he would only meet 
his own sort of company. He won four times, and the 
fifth ran second, the good stewards allowing a horse to 
fitart which had no business there; but though he was 
proved disqualified, I was chiselled out of the stakes: at 
all events 1 never got them. Now there was no ingenuity 
required about this horse; but it shows that if the head 
had been a little more employed about him in his former 
training, and the heels much less in his races, he would 
always have done better. 

I could instance, however, several horses which have 
always been trained by the same men, they not by any 
means men of superior intellect, and yet have brought these 
horses out in good form, and have been very successful 
with them. This, however, in no way militates against 
my axiom, that the more mind a man possesses the better 
trainer he is likely to be, provided he uses that mind. 
Such men as I have alluded to have probably lost their 
horses many races during the first season they had them 
under their care, from not discovering for some time how 
to treat them, so as to bring them out in their best form — 
like a botch of a watchmaker, who attempting to regulate 
your watch, moves the regulator a mile too far to the right, 
by which he converts it into a locomotive under high 
pressure: he then moves it as much too far to the left; so 
when you wish to get up at nine and look at your watch, 
you find it pointing to a quarter to four. He blunders at 
last on the right medium; so do such trainers: from finding 
what does jio( succeed, they at last find out what does, 
and then wisely keep to it; whereas a man with more head 



RIGHT AT LAST. 107 

would have found out in one month what it took them 
tvvelv^e to discover. Still 1 would rather send an inferior 
horse where I might suspect he would suffer in a temporary 
way frcMTi want of ability in his trainer, than to where I 
should l>e nearl}^ certain he would permanently suffer 
from want of attention. I should as soon think of asking 
William Scott to ride a pony for a bridle and saddle as 1 
should of sending a leatJier-plaler to John to train. Peo- 
ple who know little of horse affairs really consider that 
any stupid blockhead is equal to the management of them. 
This is however quite a mistake; he would be no such 
thing. I have no doubt the most blundering, thick-headed 
attorney that ever commenced the commonest action at 
law would think himself much degraded by any compari- 
son being made between his abilities and those of Scotty 
and would fancy, though twenty years had failed to beat 
law into his thick skull, that as many weeks would make 
a trainer, however obtuse his faculties might be. So they 
might make as good a trainer as be a lawyer. Preserve 
me from the hands of the one, and my horse from those of 
£he other! I think \vc might anticipate the actimi being; 
spoiled in both cases. 

Nothing looks prettier or more easy to do when we see 
a jockey give his horse the preparatory canter before a; 
race: I scarcely know any ordinar}^ situation that sets a 
man off to greater advantage; and certainly, with a tole- 
i-ably good seat and hands, the head is not much in this^ 
ease called in question. But this is only tl-^e manual, and 
if I may use the expression, the handicraft part of the bu- 
siness. This is not riding the race. We will not, how- 
ever, as yet look quite so high as the jockey, but shall find 
some head is required even by a very subordinate little 
personage — the ordinary riding-lad who rides the horse m 
his exercise, work and most probably sweats. He, little 
as we may think of him, will never be worth his keep if 
he is a stupid fellow. Some boys never can be taught to 
know what they are about, never can be taught what many 
persons would think very easy to learn — the pace yoit 
wish them to take their horse along, or in fact the pace 
they are going when they are on him. Others with clear- 
er heads and more observation learn this very shortly; 



lOS A DIVINE RIDING BOY. 

when they have learnt it, they become very valuable to a 
trainer. Such a boy will take directions, and implicitly 
obey them: so would the other if he could: but he could 
not, l>ecause he w^ould not be a judge of whether he was 
obeying them or not. Such a lad would never be fit to 
lead a gallop if he lived to the age of old Parr. I remem..- 
ber once seeing a trainer in (I think) one of the most fran- 
tic passions I ever saw a man, and with good reason. He 
had put a lad on a fidgety flighty horse to get very gentle 
exercise. This lad was notorious for two qualities: stupi- 
dity was one, but perfect steadiness was the other. 

I heard the trainer give this boy these simple direc- 
tions: — "When you get to the Turn-of-the-lands, turn 
a-bout, let your horse come away of himself; sit still, and 
keep him at a quite gentle half gallop." The first part the 
boy obeyed; but he soon allowed his horse to steal away 
with him, and the trainer saw he was extending his stride 
every stroke he took. As soon as he got within hail, he 
held up his hat: the boy took the hint, but instead of get- 
ting his horse by degrees off his speed, he pulled him off 
his stride altogether into a canter of six miles an hour. 
The hat was off again, and gently waved to come on: and 
on he did come with a vengeance, at a Leger pace. Up 
went the hat again, and if ever a man was mad in a tem- 
porary way, that trainer was the man. The boy was now 
near enough to see his master's gesticulations, and stopped 
his horse the moment he could, and ivalked him up to us. 
I saved the poor fellow a thrashing, but he was turned off 
that evening as incorrigible. He was hired by a clergy- 
man, and made an excellent servant: no power on earth 
ever could have made liim worth a penny in a racing- 
stal)lc. 

The learning to be a good judge of pace is really very 
difficult. The walk, the trot, and top speed are all dis- 
tinct definite paces that every ploughboy knows: but the 
intermediate paces that a race-horse at exercise and in 
strong work has to go become distinct to the rider only by 
practice and observation: the different style of going and 
action in different horses deceive very much. Some feel 
to be going much faster under you than others, though they 
teallv ajx not;, and vice versa. A lad to lead a gallop to- 



ABC DIFFICULT TO LUARN, 109 

day on a smooth-going long-striding horse, and to lead one 
the next on a compact quick striking one, and make the 
pace exactly the same on both, requires no small share of 
discrimination and judgment. A boy may be told, on a 
horse in strong work, to " bring him away the first mile at 
his usual pace, to hustle him along a hit the next mile and 
a half, and to come along the next half mile at a good tell- 
ing pace." This is all A B C to a clever and p>ract.ised 
lad, and he would do it to a nicety. But to begin, what 
is the "usual pace " he is told to go? Now many boys, 
though they had followed half a dozen horses for a fort- 
night up the same gallop at a given pace, send them by 
themselves, would no more go the same pace than they 
would fly, or know more of the pace they were going than 
they or 1 should how many knots an hour a ship was 
fj;oing. Allowing me a little latitude of idea, I will compare 
the learning all this to learning music and to sing. Tell a 
man to strike F natural on the pianoforte; there it is de- 
fined: so is the walk, trot, and gallop. Tell the same man 
to sound F natural on his own voice: this is " bie7i aiih^e 
chose -y nothing but practice, judgment, and ear will teach 
him to do this; so will nothing but practice, judgment, and 
obsei-vation teach a lad to judge of pace, easy as people 
may think it. 

I hope by what I have said I may have induced those 
unacquainted with these matters to raise the qualifications 
of my little friends (riding lads) a line or two in the scale 
of their estimation, and to believe that not only a head^ 
but a tolerably good one, is required for them to be worth 
any thing. 

We will now ascend the ladder of pre-eminence, and 
get to the top, w^here the jockey and trainer have been 
stationed while we have been alluding to the lads, who have 
taken their stations on its different steps, according to their 
pretensions. We now come in contact with the jockey, 
to whom I have much pleasure in introducing my country 
cousins. The jock to whom I introduce them is not quite 
that sort of animal they have been accustomed to see, with 
a red pocket-handkerchief round his neck, a redder face, 
and red or white glazed calico jacket, corduroys and ma- 
hoganies, a whip weighing half a pound, and spurs droop- 
10 



110 "now, gallant SAXON, HOLD TPIINE OWN." 

ing on his heels. No, no, my jockey in his common, of 
jockey dress is a shade different from him: his boots are 
beautifully made; his trousers cut as riding trousers should 
be cut, well strapped down and fitting well to the foot; his 
waistcoat rather long (as a sporting man;) his coat a single- 
breasted riding coat; his cravat well put on, an aristocratic 
hat, and doe skin gloves (quite clean:) this is his dress. 
In looks, he is rather pale, a reflecting-looking face, a keen 
eye, head well put on, and all but gentleman-like ^ no thick 
muscle at the back of it (I hate a man who has,) with a 
modest respectful manner and carriage, but with just enough 
confidence to show that he feels himself a respectable, and 
is known to be a clever man in his profession (or calling.) 
This, ladies and gentlemen, is my jockey in mufti. When 
dressed to ride, ev^ery thing is well made, put on in good 
taste, and he is neatness personified, tie is now^, we will 
suppose, on his horse, and giving him a canter. Here 
many a young aspirant for fame vvishes himself in his place, 
and no doubt thinks nothing could be more delightful or' 
easy. How he would like to show ofl^ before the ladies J 
and so he might on some horses. But our jockey hap- 
pens to be on one who sometimes would give a man some- 
thing else to think about, and who, quietly as he goes now 
(ridden as he is,) would, if our young aspirant was on him^- 
in all probability gratify his heart's desire, and show him 
OFF to the ladies. Our jockey is, we will say, on l^ay 
Middleton: how still he sits on him; his hands in the right 
place, motionless, but just feeling his horse's mouth. And 
now he is pulling him up; how gradually he does this, as if 
he fancied his reins made of a silken thread, <7nd a rude pull 
would break them. It is not so, however: he knows no rude 
pull would break them, but it might his horse's temper. We 
will now suppose him running: coirld our would be.jock be 
by his side, he would say that the Bay Middleton "he had 
seen taking his canter had become a very different animal 
when extended with from 15 to 20 horses mnning v*'ith !iim, 
and some perhaps at him. He would find, if on his back, it 
was not exactly like riding up Rotten Row; and I fear that 
what his lad3^e-love might think of him would engross less 
©f his thoughts than what his horse might do with him. 
This, however, is still only the manual, and, though difE- 

» 



NOT WON YET. Ill 

cult, is by far the least difficult part of the jockey's busi- 
ness. He thinks little about how he is to manage his horse, 
but he must think a great deal about how he is to manage 
the race : that is, not how he is to keep his horse in the 
phice he wishes him to be, but where that place should be 
for the best. Many things have to be considered before 
he can determine on this. Here the head goes to work, 
and has been long before the day of running. Doubtless 
the trainer, the jockey, and the owner (if he interferes in 
the matter) know perfectly well the kind of race that 
would suit their own horse best; but they will not be al- 
lowed to run the race as they like, for others will make a 
pretty shrewd guess at the kind of race our jockey would 
wish for his horse, and will therefore (if they consider him 
dangerous) take care it shall be run in a diametrically op- 
posite way. And could a man even command a race to be 
run as he wishes, a good deal would have to be considered 
when this was accorded to him: for possibly the very kind 
of race that suits his horse would also suit two or three 
others that he is afraid of; so, all he could ensure even by 
this would be beating sixteen out of twenty. This is in 
no way ensuring winning the race. He may have, and pro- 
bably has considered, as far as human foresight will go, 
how such horses as he is afraid of are likely to run in the 
race, and has made up his mind how to act under every 
circumstance. We will say he has done so, and feels he 
has them beaten; but he finds others a good deal better 
than he thought. He has then to think again; for here is 
a new feature in the race: but, worse than all, he may- 
find some unthought-of devil show in front full of runr. 
ning: he may have patience to wait, hoping this new 
customer may shut up: but suppose he finds he does 
not, he must not let this new comet run in shaking his tail 
at him without a struggle for it. He knows if he calls 
upon his own horse before he can live at his best, he will 
beat him; and if he lies too far out of his ground, we have 
been taught lately that a few strides will not always take 
a "race away from another horse, though he may be on a 
flyer. What is he to do now? He can do but one thing: 
he knows his horse's speed; he must judge how he feels 
under him, what powers are left in him, and time it tQ 



112 "practice 

such a nicety, that when he does set-to with him, those 
powers shall last just to the winning-post, but would fail 
in three strides beyond it. And to this nicety will a per- 
fect jockey ride his horse. 

Does tills, let me ask, require no head? Is this a mere 
mechanical business that any blockhead is equal to? He 
may ride, and even make a fair horseman; but before he 
can be a jockey he must be taught io think: and what 
must be the quickness of observation and decision required 
where a man has only perhaps three minutes given him to 
observe, decide, and act! 

1 have only represented a supposed circumstance or two 
to show the difficulties a jockey has to contend with, when 
h\ fact they are innumerable. It is not merely that he 
may ride four or five different horses on the same day, 
4ill of whicii may require to be differently ridden; but un- 
der different circumstances the same horse requires it also. 
Horses under the best training will sometimes (mares fre- 
quently) go back a little, and not be quite up to their usual 
mark on the day of running: he may be running under 
higher weight than he has been carrying, or the reverse: 
all this the jockey must consider, not merely as it will af- 
fect the running of his own horse, but of others in the race. 
Talk of head, why a state trial does not require more to 
carry it on, and possibly it may not be of as much 
consequence whether it is lost or gained as many of 
our races. 

I stated in the commencement of these papers that a cer- 
tain degree of education would be very desirable in a per- 
son who undertakes breaking young horses, and also in 
a trainer: I trust my reader will think that it would be 
equally advantageous to the jockey. That there are 
many good jockeys ivithout we know: but I maintain 
that they would probably have been still better with, with 
of course the addition of practice as well. I remember to 
have spoken in a few opinions lately no flattering terms of 
gentlemen jockeys (that is, as jockeys;) but this says no- 
thing against my theory. I must have education and prac- 
tice combined to produce better jockeys than we have, and 
it is from the want of practice only that gentlemen fail: 
but though they seldom ride a race well, if they wevo^ ig- 



StTCH PAY BETTER THAN HALF PAY. 113 

norant men, with the little practice they have, they would 
ride it still worse than they do. I know theoretical prin- 
ciples alone will never make a workman in any thing; but 
the man who commences with a good stock of them will 
nmch sooner become one than a man who has none. No 
gentleman will undergo the necessary ordeal to make him 
a perfect jockey; yet there are some gentlemen whose 
names I could mention who could tell most jockeys a 
great deal more than the latter know of their business (the 
practical part excepted.) I will mention one of our aris- 
tocracy who can ride very nearly as well as our best pro- 
fessional jocks, and much better than nine out of ten of the 
others — General Gilbert. He only wants the ordinary 
jockey's practice to be perfect. Here education (the pre- 
cursor to fine judgment in any thing a man undertakes) has 
led to what most jockeys want — head. If poor Pavishad 
had such a head, he would have been a still more perfect 
Jo'd^ey on his horse than off. Some jockeys will perhaps 
ridicule the idea of education improving them: I dare say 
tlie}^ will: all, or nearly all, ignorant persons are self-sufft- 
cient enough, and hate any theory. I should say to such, 
'• Quid rides? do tefabula narratur. 

In these " piping times of peace," in this era of general 
distress, when we see close relatives of Nobility toiling 
tiieir eight hours at the desk of a Public Office for SO/, or 
90/. per annurr), we are led to think that it matters little in 
what way a man can mjvke his 300/. or 400/. a-year, pro^ 
vided the occupation is not in itself disgraceful. We might, 
therefore, expect that we should have some very superior 
men now following the occupation of professional riders; 
but there are many things that will always prevent this 
being the case. With a \q.ty few exceptions, I do not call 
to my recollection more than a very few — Powell, the 
M'Donoughs, Mayne, and a few others, for instance — 
though Mayne was hardly to be called publicly profes- 
sional, as he only trained, and sometimes rode for Lord 
Howth. But these can only ride at high weights, Powell 
particularly so, who never would deny to himself or his 
fiicnd an}^ of the good things of this life (if he could help 
it;) therefore can only be considered as steeple-chase 
riders. I think I am within the mark when I say, not oas 

10* 



114 SELP-DENIAL EXEMPLIFIED. 

man in a thousand can ride the weight of a flat-race rider, 
and certainly no man can hope to make a good income as 
such a jock who cannot get on his horee at Derby weight; 
and many of those who can, do it at an expense of bodily 
discomfort that nothing but habit enables man to bear, and 
of which few persons are aware. It is not quite agreeable 
to see every one enjoying themselves but oneself. Af- 
ter a good dinner, it is all very fine to say it matters little 
what a man eats; but when the quality and the quantity of 
these vulgar creature-comforts are both limited to the small- 
est degree of nourishment the frame is capable of enduring, 
the thing is not quite so pleasant, particularly when to this 
are added certain little walks of a diaphoretic nature that 
are in no way pleasing addenda to the banyan days. No- 
thing can be pleasanter than to go on a visit to the noble 
patrons of the Eglinton Park, Croxton Park, or Bibury 
Meetings (where the weights are made to suit gentlemen,) 
and there to show off as one of the jocks. We will sup- 
pose a jock (that is to be on to-morrow) at the dinner table: 
a few sips of white soup or julienne, with a glass of sherry, 
prepare him for two or three forkfuls of turbot, or John 
Dory, or the fish most in season: " Champagne, sir!" a 
slice of venison, (the sauce is exquisite:) ^-Champagne, sir!" 
the chapon aux truffesis magnificent (Champagne:) a mi- 
nute particle of the vol au ve)it brings on another " Cham- 
pagne, sir." As our jock considers he must keep on the 
muzzle, he determines to be abstemious, and finishes with 
merely an orange fritter and some jelly. Stilton, parmesan 
or Gruyere? Neither. Macaroni is lighter for a jock, who 
is now enabled to wait for the dessert, the more so as from 
having taken so little, he has had a glass of Maraschino to 
prevent any cramp in the stomach : and this imboldens him 
to venture on a little ice, and then an olive, taken to pre- 
pare him for the claret. Here we will leave him till we 
find him revelling in the greater enjoyment of the society 
of the ladies in the drawing-room There, conversation, 
music, charades, tableaux vivans, and perhaps a quadrille 
got up at the moment, bring on the tray supper, only a trai/ 
supper, but constituting every delicacy that can tempt aris- 
tocratic appetite. He eats, that is, vulgarly e^^.? — nothing; 
Wit, bird-like, pecks a grain of many things. In short, his 



"take the gocd the gods provide. ' 115 

abstemiousness amounts in point of fact to the same thing 
as if he had devoured a couple of good mutton-cl.ops. He 
now begins to think that with the aid of his valet he can 
get to bed. In the morning, breakfast: jocks should not 
eat breakfasts; he will only therefore take something light. 
Chocolate? No. A cup of Mocha enlivens, and givesener- 
gy to the nerves: three or four plover's eggs are light : so are 
prawns, a potted lamprey, and a mere forkful o^ galantine 
clc gibier aux truffes. Fearing his wasting system may 
not have produced the effect of making him lighter, he deter- 
mines on a walk after breakfast; and really takes one as far 
as the conservatory wMth the ladies, visits the gold fish in 
their marble ocean, and takes a peep at the gold and silver 
])!ieasants. It is now time to dress, and on go the gossamer 
boots; ditto ditto unmentionables and satin jacket: over 
this such a love of Chesterfield or Taglioni ! Notwith- 
standing all this, he is no puppy nor fool, and perhaps rides 
his race well, and with plenty of nerve (considering the de- 
privations he has submitted to,) and that with a 41 b. saddle 
he can ride 12 st. 

1 am afraid my jock, who has to ride 7 st. 12 lb., has 
not passed his time quite so pleasantly. While the one 
was at dinner, the other was getting his tea; dinner he 
had none: some dry toast and a cup of tea suffice in place 
of the other's three meals: notwithstanding which he finds 
himself over-weight in the morning. He also takes his 
walk, but rather in a different way: a couple of flannel 
waistcoats, ditto drawers, a great coat, flannel cap, and a 
fast walk of two or three miles out and back is not visiting 
the gold fish. Nor would one cup of tea and bit of dry 
toast be quite agreeable to our gentleman jock. It is not 
to be wondered at, therefore, that we have so few men of 
education making riding races a profession: still, as some 
boys select this occupation, if as boys they were brought to 
think more than they are, I maintain they would become 
more scientific, and consequently much better jockeys from 
this sort of education. 

Having said thus much of the different functionaries of 
the /i/r/ let us now inquire how far hunting may require 
head in its pursuit. 

I doubt not there are many persons who think any ordi- 



116 HUNTSxMEN SOMETIMES PUPPIES. 

nary fellow who can " whoop," and ^' halloo," blow a horn 
and ride boldly, is. good enough for a huntsman. Of 
course no sportsman thinks this; but I am not making 
these observations for the edification of sportsmen: I ne- 
ver, on any occasion, presume to write for their instruction; 
but I am endeavouring to show those of the world who 
are not sportsmen that our pursuits approach nearer to 
their own in point of the requisite of mind (or as I have 
termed it, head) than they have hitlierto supposed. 
If I succeed in this, my most aspiring hope will be re- 
alized. 

I have always considered, that, take him all in all, a 
huntsman who is first-rate as a kennel huntsman, and mode- 
rately good in the field, supposing the entire management 
of the pack was left to him, would during a season show 
more sport than if his attributes were reversed. If I am 
wrong in this opinion, I am, (as I hope I am on every oc- 
casion,) open to correction. My reasons for having always 
held this opinion are, that if the pack are bad in them- 
selves the best chase huntsman on earth cannot make them 
good; if they are good in a general way, the less the hunts^ 
man interferes with them the better. 1 have known many 
crack coachmen whose great fault was driving too much. 
Mayne, whom I have mentioned as a race-rider, though a 
most superior horseman, ahvays rode too much: he never 
could keep quiet in his saddle, but was always doing some? 
thing with his horse, and sometimes beat him, by doing 
what he considered was assisting him. I have seen many 
crack huntsmen who I felt perfectly convinced hunted 
their hounds too much; in short wanted to kill their fox, 
by their own sagacity instead of allowing the hounds to do 
so by theirs, and would all but take them ofi^ their noses 
to get the credit of a knowing cast — a degree of puppyism 
and arrogance in a huntsman which I consider quite un- 
pardonable. I shall quote an instance of this kind of thing, 
and the huntsman's excuse for it. Hounds were running 
with a burning scent, but came to a check: a couple or two 
shortly hit it off; the pack joined, and away they were 
going, when, to every one's astonishment, the first whip 
was sent to get them back, the huntsman riding, hallooing, 
and blowing his horn in a different direction. 



THE SCHOOLMASTER WANTED. 117 

He made a cast, but not a hound owned the vestige of a 
scent; so he was forced to try back (hateful at all times to 
a fox-hunter.) Coming to the spot where they were <iar- 
rying the scent when stopped, they hit it off again, and 
finally ran into their fox. The huntsman being required 
to explain his motive for taking his hounds off their line, 
said he thought they must be hunting foul, as no fox should 
have taken that line of country; his point ought to have 
been such a covert. On being told that foxes would some- 
times follow their own opinions instead of his in such par- 
ticulars, he merely said, '^ If the fox was a fool, it was no 
fault of his." So much for huntsmen relying on their own 
opinion instead of the sagacity and natural instinct of their 
hounds! That a great deal of cleverness may be shown by 
a huntsman in the field, we all know, and that at times he 
may greatly assist hounds, is equally clear; but these aids 
(to kill a fox fairly) should only be given where from a 
bad-scenting day, a known bad-scenting country, or a fox 
having gone away long before he was hit upon, prevents 
hounds exercising their gift of nose. A sudden change in 
the atmosphere, a particularly harsh, dry piece of ground, 
are fair excuses for giving hounds a lift, for they are then 
on unequal terms with their fox. He can make use of his 
legs to escape; they cannot, in such circumstances, make 
efiectual use of their noses to follow him. Here, by making 
a judicious cast forward, a huntsman shows his tact, and 
here we may allow him to exercise his judgment as to the 
point he considers his fox is making for; and probably he 
will be right, except, as our late -mentioned friend said, 
" the fox is a fool." Here the sagacity of the huntsman 
will probably be greater than that of the hound, a sequHur 
by no means to be relied on in all cases. The distinctive 
line between instinct and reason, the most talented have^ 
found it very difficult, if not impossible, to define. We are* 
not aware that animals reflect so as to combine circum- 
stances: now, more or less, a huntsman does, or ought io 
do this, and this tells him where to make his cast. The 
hound (and the higher bred he is tiie greater would be the 
probability of his doing it) would, if left to himself, most 
likely, on losing all scent, make a short cast or two, and 
then not succeeding, would trot quietly home, or wherever 



lis QUALIFICATIONS OF THE SCHOOLMASTER, 

his fancy led him. I have come in contact with many 
huntsmen, and I think I can say that, without exception, I 
have invariahly found the man of the best general informa- 
tion the best huntsman, whether in the field or kennel. 
Some excel in the one particular, others in the other, but 
very few indeed in both. Still I must adhere to my 
opinion, that a real good kennel huntsman requires the 
most head. The chief requisites of a huntsman in the field 
I conceive to be, a perfect knowledge of his country, both 
as to locality and its scenting qualities; the points for 
which foxes in a general way make when found in parti- 
pular places and with particular winds, which will gene- 
rally be the same except with strange foxes in the clickit- 
ting season; and, further, a perfect knowledge of the 
qualifications of the different hounds in his pack, and 
consequently how far they are to be trusted. Some hounds^ 
we all know, like some men, will show, or rather commit, 
little peccadillos when in covert and out of sight; they 
may, nevertheless, be capital chase hounds, and perfectly 
steady where they know they are watched ; for, reflect or 
not, they have reflection (or a something else) enough to 
be quite awake to this. Some hounds are capital finders, 
^nd will work through every foot of the thickest covert: 
others are dandies, and do not like tearing their skins or 
even coats with thorns or gorse. Some almost invariably 
take the lead on a fox going away, and if he is run 
into in twenty minutes, go for that time like meteors; 
others, particularly some old hounds, let these flash gentle- 
men make all the running, and when they find their fox 
sinking, first make a quotation, '^ finis coronat opus^^ then 
get to the head, and kill their fox. I am not joking as to 
the hound making a quotation: I only conclude he makes 
it inwardly. 

Suppose a huntsman to possess the requisites I have 
mentioned, and to be a good horseman, I should say he 
will do well enough; but to do this he must have no block- 
head. 

Of the first whip, I need say no more than that he re- 
quires to the full as much, if not more head in the field 
than the huntsman. There is one little addition to his 
general business that it would be a great advantage to fox- 



LITTLE PIGS MAKE THE EEST OF LACON, 11^ 

liunting to delegate to him (if we could:) he is expected 
to correct young hounds that run riot cither at covert oi^ 
in chase — why not some young gentlemen who not unfre- 
quently do the same ? 

We will now look in at the kennel, by the general ap- 
pearance of which and its inhabitants, a practised eye will 
at once detect what sort of head conducts the establish- 
ment. Poor Power used to say, when acting the part of 
a prince in Teddy the Tiler, " You same to think it's as 
aisy to make a prince as a had of mortar." Of the relative 
difficulty of making these two articles, I am not a judge, 
never having made a prince. A hod of mortar I really 
have manufactured, and therefore can only humbly venturef 
a surmise, that if I was fortunate enough to be permitted 
to try, I could manufacture a lot of princes with less labour^ 
and certainly by a more agreeable process. Of one thing 
I am certain, it is much easier to make what will do well 
enough for a prince, than it is to make a pack of fox-hounds 
— at least a good pack. 

If a man happens to come into a large property, it is 
very easy to say, '• I will have a pack of fox-hounds;'^ 
and such he may readily get; that is, he may get thirty- 
live or forty couples of dogs, and those fox-hounds; and 
probably, if he is weak enough to accept them, he may 
get a great proportion of those given him. He may 
also get twenty hunters in his stable, and these may b^ 
really good ones, if he gives money enough. As to his 
pack (imlcss he finds some one giving up a country,) at 
the end of three or fcin^ seasons 1 should like to see how 
he was getting on; but till (hen I should excuse myself 
hunting with him, unless, which God forbid, dl tfie Mas- 
ters of long-standing packs vvere to give up hunting,- 
This need not deter any one from feeling confident 
that by patience, perseverance, and the help of a good 
head, he will in time get together a good pack of hounds. 
'^ We must all make a beginning; and here goes,' ^ as tlfe 
flea said when he gave the elephant his first nibble on his 
breech, fully intending to pick bis bones, I do not mean 
that forming a pack of fox-hounds amounts quite to this; 
but the tyro will fmd it a matter of more difiiculty than 
he probably anticipated. Of all wretches in the shape of 



120 BATTUEING. 

dogs, none are more so than spr>rting dogs wlicn b:id ones; 
a fox-hound or greyhound parlieularly so: a bad pointer 
sometuTies makes a capital watch-dog. This, by-the-by, 
brings to my recollection an acquamtance of mine who 
hunted with the Epping hounds (at least so he said, for I 
never joined the hunt.) He came to see me, on my promising 
to mount with the (then) King's hounds and the Old Ber- 
keley; but wishing to show himself a sportsman in every 
way, he brought down a bran new Manton and (as I after- 
wards found out) a bran new dog. He stated that he 
brought but one, concluding 1 was a shot Now 1 never 
pointed a gun at a head of game in my life. 1 did as a 
boy knock swallows and pigeons about, and made sad de- 
vastation along the hedgerows; and as I always insisted 
on the contents of my bag or pockets being made into pies, 
I may fairly assert, that I have devoured more larks, black- 
birds, thrushes, sparrows, chaffinches, greenfinches, and 
every other finch, than perhaps any man in England, for 
no sort came amiss to me. So much for my shooting ex- 
ploits. On expressing my regret at not having pointers 
and settei-s to lend, I offered as a substitute the clioice of 
half-a-dazen capital bull-terriers, or a French dog, which 
would ring the bell, fetch my hat, stand on his head, and 
perform various other exhibitions, and might (for all I 
knew) find game. However, my ofier was declined, add- 
ing, with a self-satisfied look, that ^hls/avoioiie was quite 
sufficient single-handed : he had always found him so when- 
ever he had tried him." (This w^as the truth.) Off vve 
went, with a stable-boy canying a new game-pannier. 
Carlo appeared perfectly steady, which my friend told me 
he was warranted to do when he first bought him, but he 
did not say that was within three days, and of some fellow 
in the city road. Well, he trotted along after us as if he 
was led in a string. On getting to some fields where I 
knew birds always laid, his master gave the important wave 
of his arm, and "hie on !" Carlo looked very much like 
wondering what he meant. "Hie away !" cries his master 
in a louder tone. Carlo looked up in his face, and wagged 
his tail. His master said he was a timid meek dog. Pie 
patted, and encouraged him. Carlo, in gratitude, saluted 
him with his dirty paws on the white cords. "Hie on, 



A RUM DISTILLER. 121 

good dog!" Carlo did now poke his nose into a furrow^ 
very much as if he was looking for a mouse. My poor 
city friend could stand it no longer: he fleW into a rage; 
and while I was bursting my sides laughing, he gave Carlo 
a whack with his gun, who in return gave an awful yell, 
and then incontinently looked to his scrapers, topped the 
field-gate like a greyhound, and on our going to the hedge 
to look after the valuable animal, we saw him half a mile 
on the London high road at top speed; and as it was but 
twenty miles to town, I doubt not but Carlo got safe back 
to his kennel in the city road before evening. I had sisked 
a couple of friends to meet my city acquaintance, but spared 
him by not even mentioning Carlo. However, he could 
not stand the thing. My boy had told the story in the 
stable and kitchen, and off the Epping hero went the next 
morning. I dare say I lost a good thing by not seeing him 
go with hounds. 

Now, though I am no shot, I know when a pointer be- 
haves well or not; and as Carlo certainly afforded me ten 
times the amusement I should have enjoj^ed from the best 
dog Osbaldeston ever shot over, it is ungrateful in me to 
say a word in his dispraise. But 1 must candidly allow, 
that, if I did shoot, he was not just the sort I should like. 
Head was wanting in this case, either in the dog or his tu- 
tor, or both. 

With many ap6loo;ies to my headers for this digression, 
1 will now return to the kennel huntsman. I must beg my 
readers not to suppose the duty of a huntsman when out of 
the field to consist merely in seeing his hounds cat their 
pudding. "Do fox-hounds eat pudding?" I think I hear 
some schoolboy ask, or perhaps some gentleman who may 
have left school some forty years (if either happen to read 
what 1 have written.) Indeed, my good sir, they doj and 
beef, and broth, vegetables, milk, and other good things, at 
times; and what is more, each gentleman hound is sepa- 
rately invited to dinner, ushered into the dining-room with 
all proper ceremony, and when there, if he does not con- 
duct himself with proper dog courtesy to his fellow guests, 
is very severely reprimanded. I am free to allow the said 
guests, or most of them, do follow the American table-d^hdte 
custom of helping themselves to any thing and every thing 
11 



122 ^ STAND NOT, ETC. ETC., BUT GO AT ONCE." 

within their reach, eatino- as fast and as much as tliey can, 
and then taking themselves off, the dinner conversation 
consisting in both cases of an occasional growl when inter- 
rupted in the process of boiling, I do not say masticating, 
their food. 

That seeing his hounds get proper food, in proper quan- 
tities, proper medicine, and proper exercise, is one duty of 
the huntsman, mo«t persons know; but where head in him 
is chiefly required, is in the breeding of such hounds as are 
adapted to his particular country. Hounds that will sail 
away over the large enclosures and fine scenting-ground of 
Leicestershire, would make no hand of some of our cold 
clayey small enclosed countries, nor would they like the 
dry flints of Kent. Hounds may be too highly bred for 
some countries, where they hardly dare throw up their 
heads for twenty strides together, but mu&t pick it out every 
yard. Such hounds would lose patience, overrun the scent, 
and in such cases, their blood being up, would hunt any 
thing, ay, the parson of the parish, if they got on the scent 
of him, and possibly kill him too, if they ran in to him. 

That great judgment is required in forming a really per- 
fect pack is shown by the fact, that where the master un- 
derstands the thing, and will take the trouble of attending 
to it, we always see the best packs. Few huntsmen could 
have got together such a pack as the Raby when Lord 
Darlington personally attended to the breeding and hunt- 
ing them; or such as at one time the Ward lady pack, and 
some others of the present day. Both the packs I have 
mentioned I saw when quite a boy, and have never forgot- 
ten them. This perfection was, however, the result of 
years of experience and expense. Hounds must not only 
have different qualifications as to speed for different coun- 
tries, but different shape and make. In an open country, 
where hounds I may say race into their fox, the tall, very 
high-bred, and somewhat loose coupled hound is required. 
In such countries where foxes go long distances in search 
of prey (and coverts generally lay wide,) they {;not the 
coverts) are in good wind, seldom over fat, and, knowing 
they have only speed to trust to to save themselves, go off 
at once, and go in earnest. If, therefore, their speed is 
great, what must the pace be to catch them? Such hounds 



LONG TAILS AND SHORT TAILS. 123 

would not do however in hilly countries: hills would tire 
them to death; while their game being a shorter legged 
animal, would beat them hollow. Here the well-knit, low, 
long and broad hound must be had: liere positive physical 
strength is wanting both in hounds and horses. Fine noses 
are unquestionably most desirable in all hounds and in all 
countries, but are more indispensable in some instances 
than in others. I should say, where the very finest are re- 
quired is in an open, bad-scenting country. Here hounds 
have little or nothing in the shape of fences to stop them; 
and to carry on a slight scent at a racing pace requires the 
ne plus ultra of a nose. A very thickly-enclosed country 
does not allow hounds to go this pace; consequently, if it 
is a bad-scenting one, hounds are more disposed to stoop 
to a scent. Speed also is a great desideratum in a hound; 
but, as in horses, there are two distinct sorts of speed, 
something like that of the greyhound and the rabbit. Now 
match these to run a hundred yards and start, I am not 
quite clear but bunny would have the best of it. He would 
get half the distance before the longtaii would get to half his 
speed. Perhaps we should call the first quickness, the 
latter speed. It is this sort of rabbit-like quickness we 
want both in hounds and nags in a very enclosed country: 
both must be able to get to their best pace at once. Put 
me in a country where the fields were only an acre each, 
and on a quick cob, 1 would beat old Vivian in his palmy 
days, unless he is very much altered since the time 1 knew 
him ten years since — I mean, altered as to being quick and 
handy: he is altered enough in every other way. Now 
these different requisites a huntsman has to get into his 
hounds for his particular country, which can only be 
effected by judicious crosses: nor are they to be obtained 
in the first generation. Put a remarkable speedy, dashing, 
flighty dog to a meek, steady, slow, close line hunting 
bitch, or vice versa, we must not flatter ourselves we shall 
arrive at the happy medium. We may have got nearer to 
what we want; hut the produce may be too high or too 
low — may still have too much of the glare and dash of the 
one parent, or too much of the want of it of the other. We 
must now cross again, and persevere till we arrive at per- 
fection, or near it. This, it will be perceived, is not come 



124 A DEGENERATE RACE. 

at in one or two seasons; and, in a general way, I think I 
ghall be found somewhat near the mark when I said that in 
about four seasons I sliould like to take a peep at a nevvly 
organized pack; and then I make the proviso, that a head 
of the right sort has been at work for them; if not, com- 
mend me to two or three good terriers in a barn full of 
rats: I should at all events see some description of sport 
carried on as it ought to be. 

Let me add another thing: I know of few situations a 
man can be placed in to call forth all the attributes of a per-^ 
feet gentleman so much as being the master of foxhounds? 
he has so many interests to consult — so many opinions 
(and man}^ of them ridiculous ones) to listen to — ^often so 
much ill-breeding in the field to bear — so many tempers to 
conciliate — that nothing but the greatest urbanity of man- 
ner, added to steady determination, can carry him through; 
and this even after he has brought his pack to be all but 
faultless. I hope my readers will now agree with me, that 
to manage a pack of foxhounds, requires more head thai:i 
those who think it does not probably possess. 

We now see weekly so many steeple-chases advertised, 
that we may be led to the inference that either it requires 
very little or no head to ride one, or that the English have 
become all at once more than usually enlightened. Neither 
of these premises, are, however, the fact, though the in-s 
qreased number of steeple-races is. That numbers of per- 
sons do now ride in these races is quite clear; so numlDers 
ride in the Park; yet in both these cases I could pick out 
a few simple ones. To ride a steeple-chase well, like 
doing every thing else well^ certainly requires considera-? 
ble skill; but I cannot consider it requires by many der? 
grees the same skill as riding a flat race. In the latter case, 
horses are often so very equally matched, that the best 
jockey is (barring unforeseen circumstances) all but sure 
to win: if the talents of two jockeys are very disproporr 
tionedj I should say the thing was certain. Now in a 
steeple-race the thing is not drawn so fine. Many horses 
start for a steeple-race, the owners and riders of which per^ 
fectly vvell know, that unless some accident or mistake, or 
not happening to be in their best form on that day, occurs 
to some two or three others' horses, their own has no 



"GOOD NIGHT GOOD NIGHT, AND IS IT SO?" 125 

earthl)^ chance: but such accidents do occur, and their 
horse is let go, hoping (charitably one would say) that 
some of these accidents would overtake the favourites. 
When any of these races end in a close thing, the skill of 
the jockey can hardly be shown: both horses are so beat 
that it is only how far whip and spur, and lasting, may 
enable one poor brute to canter in before the other. This 
is my objection to making steeple-races four miles: it 
always produces a long tailing business, occasions serious 
accidents, broken backs and bones, and ends in no race 
at all. 

In Ireland, at Ashbourne, and other two mi!e steeple- 
races, I have seen six or seven horses top the last fence 
nearly abreast at something like a racing pace, and really 
an interesting struggle take place — horses blown, I will 
allow, but not worn out by fatigue. Here real jockeyship 
is available: the horse has something left in him for the 
jockey to have recourse to, and head and hands are of im- 
portance. A considerable portion of judgment and know- 
led;;;e of a horse's particular powers are quite requisite in a 
steeple-race: numbers of those who do ride think little 
about this; consequently, they would be beat on very su- 
perior horses by first-rate riders on bad ones. Some horses, 
for instance, have extraordinary powers through dirt; I 
have generally found such horses go well up and down 
hill. At this game they will go a pace that would choke 
many others. These horses can generally go nearly the 
same pace from end to end; whereas in deep soil the more 
brilliant and faster horse has to be nursed, and must trust 
to speed when he gets on galloping ground. Some horses 
require driving at their fences; others, holding hard: some 
like to go at them, and will do so, in spite of you, like a 
steam-engine; others would be frightened if rode at them 
in this way: some horses, like old Vivian, will jump 
though dead tired; others will only do so (with any 
safet)^) when quite fresh (and mighty pleasant animals the 
latter are to ride four miles.) JNIany horses, if a litfle 
blown, by taking a pull at them, will recover, while others 
will not, but, if once distressed, put on their niirht-caps, 
and desire you to ^* call on them to-morrow." Geldings I 
have generally found recover wind sooner than stallions; 



12Q "be wise in time.'' 

that is, when in hunting condition : when drawn fine as 
race-horses, the difference between them is trifling, if any. 
All these things must be, and are, attended to when we 
put a first-rate man up to ride. He has a certain stock of 
animal power given him at starting, and his good judgment 
teaches him how to husband it, so as to keep the most he 
can to bring him home again; but he must have a head 
to think and hands to do it; and as for heels, he will want 
a little of them too: but, if an artist, he will never use 
tl)em improperly, or when he can do without them. 

I saw some very proper remarks made lately in a Sport- 
ing Journal on the unfairness of the ground marked out for 
a steeple-chase. Now, I know many of our first-rate 
riders: I wish them well; and, in proof of this, tell them 
that if they break all their necks it serves them right. 
These are ail valuable men to the sporting world; — 
many of them valuable members of society: What bu- 
siness have they to go risking their necks over impro- 
per and unfair courses to please the gaping multitude, or 
in obedience to the wishes of men who would not them- 
selves ride over half the course for all the land it covered? 
If the first-rate riders were all to join and object to unfair 
courses, they would show their good sense, and the thing 
would be better arranged. Ordinary hunting fences are 
dangerous enough at the pace they are forced to ride at 
them; but to ask men to ride at fences made dangerous 
purposely ^ and that at a part of the race when horses are 
beat, is most unfair, unsportsmanlike, selfish, and cruel. If 
they fancy that an objection on their parts would lay them 
open to a charge of fear, I would ask, would any man 
doubt the courage of such men as the Marquis of Angle- 
sey, Lord Ponsonb}^, or Colonel Wyndham, should either 
or all of these decline a duel with muskets at six paces? 
Men of their established courage might refuse to face a 
pop-gun if they chose : so might our known steeple-chase 
riders refuse tq break their bones for the gratification of 
the public. Would any man suppose Powell, Oliver, 
M'Donough, and many others, did it through fear, or from 
any other motive than a duty they really owe to themselves, 
their families, and friends? I suspect those gentlemen who 
50 obligingly lay out these break-neck courses would hang 



A SPORTING JURY. 127 

back a little, if, in case of accident, they were called on to 
support a man crippled through their kindness. If I had 
the laying out steeple-race courses, I would on all occasions 
call in, say five known steeple-chase riders who were 770/ 
to ride in that particular race, and take the majority of their 
opinions as to the fairness of the course, or of any particu- 
lar fence in it. This would set the thing to rights. Nor 
do I consider any man ought to be allowed to mark out a 
course unless he be a rider himself, or would be willing to 
ride over it. I have heard many masters order their ser- 
vants to ride a horse at a fence they dare not attempt them- 
selves: this may be fair enough, if their fear arises from 
the apprehension of tumbling off; but to ask a servant to 
ride at a place we think too dangerous in itself to risk our 
own necks at, is, I humbly conceive, neither more nor less 
than a cowardly stretch of povv^er. If I had repeatedly put 
a horse at a fence, and could not get him to face it, and Oli- 
ver happened to be by, I might ask him (knowing him a 
better horseman than myself) to see what he could do. 
This would be all fair, and most probably he would suc- 
ceed: at all events, 1 will answer for him he would with 
perfect good humour tr}^ Half the ordinary run of men 
in riding at fences are forced to occupy their attention in 
keeping their seats: this gives them quite enough to do; 
consequently, steadying their horse in going to his fence, 
assisting him in rising at it, and, what is of quite as much 
importance, supporting him on landing, is out of the ques- 
tion. Now all this is done by a horseman: his only fear 
is that his horse may refuse; that his powers may not be 
equal to tlie fence to be got over; or that, from its extreme 
awkward nature, he may fall. Of himself — that is, his 
seat — he entejlains no concern: and I firmly believe, if 
Powell or Oliver wanted to go to Bath, and their horse 
could take off at Hyde Park Corner, clearing Windsor 
Castle in his way, they would consider it as pleasant a 
mode of transit as you could give them. 

Talking of seat, I cannot help mentioning an instance of 
perfection in this way that came under my notice when 
seeing Powell riding Primrose in a steeple race (a sharp- 
ish little mare with ten stone on her — I think in this case 
she carried near, if not quite, twelve.) About the middle 



128 COUNTERFEIT RESEMBLANCE OP TWO BROTHERS. 

of the race they had to face a bullfinch, with an honest fif- 
teen-feet brook on the other side: but what constituted the 
danger was, first, the coming to it was down hill; secondl}^, 
the horses could not see the brook till they rose at the 
leap; and, thirdly, there was but one narrow penetrable 
place in the hedge. For this of course they would all 
make; and I consider, in such a case racing to iLfor lead 
to be one of the most dangerous manceuvres in a steeple- 
race. Fortunately, Powell had sufficient lead to render 
this unnecessary: at it he came, and over all he went: the 
weight told on poor Primrose, and down she came on her 
knees on landing. 'J'his kind of thing, hunting men know 
by experience, gives one about the same gentle inclination 
to go over one's horse's ears that a cannon ball gets from 
a quantum suff. charge of gunpowder. Not so, however, 
in this case. There sat our friend Powell as cool and erect 
as one of the Life Guards we see in Parliament Street, his 
mare as fast held, and his hands in the same place they 
were when galloping over the preceding meadow. Up he 
had her, and off before the next horse took the leap. So 
much for seat. To have this in perfection, and the strong- 
est nerv^e, are certainly both indispensable if a man m.eans 
to ride steeple-races, or indeed to hounds, and to ride 
well. 

This reminds me of what Tom Belcher once said to a 
sixteen-stone friend of mine, who thought himself pretty 
much of a man, and wanted to study sparring. Tom 
looked at him: " Well," said he, "' you're big enough, if 
you're good enough; but before you learn sparring, let me 
ask you one question — Can you bear licking? — for I don't 
care how good you may be, you will be sure to find some 
customer to make you nap it, though you may lick him." 

So, if a man is afraid of a fall, he has no business hunt- 
ing, much less steeple-racing. Still seat and nerve alone 
will not do. If they were the ne plus ultra of a rider, 
Mr. W. M'Donough would ride better than his brother; 
for of the two, I should say he was the boldest, or, in 
alluding to him, I should say the most desperate rider. 
Why then cannot he ride as well as the other? Why I do 
not say: but he cannot, and what is more, never will; and 
I have no doubt he is aware of it, giving him at the same 



PRACTICAL LESSONS. 129 

time every credit for being a very superior horseman. A. 
M'Donough possesses certain qualifications that must 
always make him " deserve, when he cannot command 
success" — great courage, a quick eye to his own and other 
horses, a good judge of pace, great patience (a rare quality 
in a young one,) never takes more out of his horse than he 
can help, and never uses whip or spur without absolute 
occasion. 

I really believe some men are born horsemen. I will 
mention one in the person of a young man who has lately 
rode a good deal in England — Byrne. I think I may ven- 
ture to say he never was on a horse till he was twelve 
years old: his father was no horseman; nor did the young 
one ever get his riding education in a school; if he had, he 
would never have rode as he can. He had a love born in 
him for horses, and the way he made himself a horseman 
was this: he got leave to ride horses (not race horses) at 
exercise, and tumbled off till he learned to stick on ; and 
riding all sorts gave him hands, which he very shortly got 
to perfection. I know no man living who can make a 
perfect gentleman's hunter better than Byrne: at the same 
time, if I was asked whether I would as soon put him on 
a horse to ride a steeple-race as Oliver, Powell, and some 
half dozen others, I should say, no : he has not had their 
experience, though perhaps as horsemen there may be very 
little difference between them and him. 

But, without alluding to natural abilities, experience 
generally gives head: it also (but not always) gives 
hands; every fool has heels; and the o;reater the fool the 
Jess likely he is to forget it, or allow his horse to forget it 
either. I like to see a man ride bold and straight to hounds, 
but I also like to see him ride with judgment; and, as I 
have on a former occasion said, I am convinced, in a gene- 
ral vvay, the men who do ride the straightest distress their 
horses the least. A bold rider, and merely a hard rider 
are two very different people: the first, in a fair and sports- 
manlike way, shares the danger with his horse; in fact, 
risks both their lives and hmbs together like an honest fel- 
JQw: the other merely takes it out of his unfortunate horse 
where his own dearly and well-beloved neck is in no 
danger. I hate such a* self-loving devil, though I value my 



130 A HARD RIDER. 

neck as much as others, and think a boy of mine was not 
far out in an observation he made — somcthino; like the one 
made by Aberneth}^ when a patient remarked that it |i;ave 
him great pain to raise his arm: " What a fool you must 
be then/' said he, '^ to raise it/' — IMy boy said nearly the 
satne in effect. I was hunting with Ward: this boy was 
on a five-year-old, quieting him to hounds. Will the Whip 
was on a beast of a mare they called Long Jane, and long 
enough, high enough, and lanky enough Long Jane was: 
in short, as one of the machines for boj's to practise gym- 
nastics upon, she would have been invaluable. Poor Will 
put her at a ditch, and in she went. ^' I knew thee 
would'st tumble in," said Will, " when I put thee at it." 
— " Then what a fool you must have been to have done 
it!" says the boy, who, by-the-by, would ride at any thing, 
the only difference being, he never thought he should fall, 
or rather his horse. I certainly have rode at many fences 
where I thought I stood a very fair chance of a purl; but 
as certainly never rode at one where, as Will said, I knew 
I should get it. — A hard rider is another thing. I will 
mention one who lived on the middle of the hill going 
from Egham to Englefield Green: his name I forget, but 
Charles Davis can vouch for the truth of my picture of the 
man, who always hunted with the king's harriers when 
Davis whipped in to his father (one of the most repectable 
and superior men of his standing in life I ever knew.) 
This said hard rider weighed about fourteen stone, and 
kept a miserable little pony, on which he hunted. He 
never was quiet. The moment a hound challenged, in 
went the spurs, and off he was, as if a fox was found in an 
open country. 1 believe he hunted the poor pon}^ to death. 
I met him some time afterwards, when he told me he had 
bought a regular hunter, and on this he appeared some 
time afterwards, in the person of a black galloway mare, 
about thirteen and a-half hands, and thin as a lath. If he 
rode as he did on the pony, what did he do on this supe- 
rior animal? He put on the steam in good earnest till she 
stopped. On my remonstrating with him on his cruelty, 
he remarked he was ^waj-s a hard rider! Now this 
bears me out in what I once stated in my Remarks on 
Cruelty, " th^t a man who was cruel to hi? horse would be 



HUNTING FOR THE MILLION. 131 

found so in every situation in life." I was told a greater 
brute to a wife never existed than this hard rider. He had 
neither head nor hands; but he had heels, and spurs on 
them for his horse; and, if report says true, arms and fists, 
or a stick at the end of them for his wife: at any rate, he 
saw the end of her. 

I make no doubt but the generality of the hunting men 
of 1844 will contend that hunting never was known in 
such perfection as during the last twenty years. Quite 
younkers, I know, think that even twenty years since 
people knew little about doing it as they think it ought to 
be done: bul as to the sport their fathers enjoyed when of 
their age, they consider the thing must have been a bur- 
lesque upon hunting. These young gentlemen are a little 
too fast; and I maintain that hunting may be, nay, has 
already been, too fast. In this I am quite sure many of 
the best sportsmen will agree with me. It has in fact 
ceased to be hunting. I love both racing and hunting, but 
I allow myself to be no admirer of racing-hunting or hunt- 
ing-racing: the endeavouring to amalgamate them spoils 
both. Now I call it racing-hunting where hounds come at 
once on a fox, go off at his brush, and run into him with- 
out a check in twenty minutes. This I am quite willing 
to allow is very good fun — call it fun if you like — and I 
am satisfied; but no man shall tell me it \sfox-hiinfiiig. 

A gentleman in Warwickshire lately bought some fox- 
hounds: he did not attempt to say he meant fox-hunting; 
in fact he never tried for a fox: he avowedly hunted drags. 
The idea was at first a good deal ridiculed, but it seemed 
he knew his field and friends better than they knew them- 
selves, for it took wonderfully; and when they found it 
killed their horses, and they rarely could see the end of the 
run, they all declared it was inimitahle. Now if he 
meant this as a keen bit of satire on his friends' knowledge 
of hunting, he must have enjoyed the thing amazingly over 
his fire-side, which I dare say he did, for he knows what 
hunting is, and can ride. 

Why not then have some packs of drag-hounds kept, 
and make three distinct amusements, all good in their way! 
We might then have racing in its legitimate way, when 
we wish for such a treat; drag hunting, when we want a 



132 A SHORT TRIAL. 

galloping and leaping 'bout; and hunting, for fox-hunters, 
instead of two mongrel amusements. What I mean by 
hunting-racing is, that most perfectly ridiculous custom of 
introducing hurdles on a race-course, and this when it ib^ 
not attempted to call it a hunter's stake. This is also fun^ 
perhaps, but certainly not racing: and if it took place at a 
revel among jumping in sacks and grinning through horse- 
collars, would be a very interesting wind-up. 

1 am sorry to say that I fear we have not quite as much 
head as our ancestors in our system. I hate slow hunting, 
never liked hare-hunting; like hounds to go, and keep 
going; but I really do think three-quarters' speed fast 
enough for a hunter; that is, provided he is fast: if he is 
not, however good he might be in every other qualification, 
I would never ride him twice. I might be asked, why, if 
I think hounds may be bred too fast, do 1 make speed so 
much a sine qua non in a hunter? I will answer this by 
an observation on a different subject. Whenever I want 
a buggy-horse, I always try him, and my trial gives far 
less trouble than most people's, but it is one I never found 
fail. I first put my horse in a moderate trot — say eight 
miles an hour at the bottom of a moderate hill ; if he will- 
ingly keeps the same pace up to the top, I have seldom 
found him a bad mettled one: if, on the contrary, he begins^ 
lagging, hitching in his pace, or shuffling, 1 have had trial 
enough: depend on it he is a rogue or a very weak horse^ 
So much for gameness: for this, though no great trial, it 
may be said, is a pretty fair criterion to judge by. Now 
for pace, I always try a horse one mile: if he cannot do 
that with tlie most perfect ease a few seconds under four 
minutes, I never buy him as a regular buggy-horse for the 
road; a horse merely to drive in London streets, is another 
thing. Here showy action only is wanted. Now I do 
not w^ant to drive twenty miles faster than other people, 
but I will have fast ones, for two reasons; I do like now 
and then, if I find some one on the road driving at me be- 
cause he thinks he has a goer, to take the conceit out of 
him. Half a mile does this, and gets rid of him: he then 
leaves you to enjoy your own dust, if there is any, without 
the pleasing addition of his. But a far more sensible rea- 
son for liking a fast one is this: if he can trot at the rate 



"keep their heads straight, they'll all jump.'^ 133 

of seventeen miles an hour, going at the rate often is play 
to him. So it is with a hunter: if he is fast enough to 
catch hounds, he can go with them without distress as to 
pace: if lie is not fast, and very fast, he cannot, and indeed 
not always even when he is. Speed I must maintain to he 
the first thing to look at in purchasing a hunter, or a horse 
to make one of; and if my friends will be kind enough to 
find me m speed, I will find myself in neck and jumping. 

Comparatively speaking, they can all jump if we choose to 
make them : but they cannot all go. There is not one borse 
in fifty, wiih the size, shape, make, and breed of a hunter, 
that cannot if he jjleases take any ordinary fence we meet 
with in crossing a country. I may be told that perhaps 
he may not pleasiC to do this; this is by no means impro- 
bable: we see this sometimes with the best of them, even 
with steeple-chase horses. In such a particular case, and 
at that particular fence, we may possibly be beat; but if he 
in a f^eiieral way should not please to jump, he must then 
put his patience and determination to the test with mine. 
I will answer for it, in nineteen cases out of twenty I teach 
him he must jump when and where I please: but I cannot 
make him go if there is no go in him, and it would be folly 
and cruelty to attempt it. Head, hands, and heels may 
make him a fencer, but they can't make him a g-per. 

We are told that hounds must now-a-days be vefy fast 
to kill their foxes; that "meets" being often atteleven 
o'clock, unless hounds get on the best possible terni's with 
their fox, they cannot hunt him: granted. I am afraid 
that something like Abernethy's reply will apply here. 
My Lord says, " there is so little scent, that if my hounds 
do not race down their fox, they cannot hunt him down, 
because we meet so late." Some rude fellow (like my- 
self,) who loves fox- h7U2 1 VI g, might say, " Then why don't 
you meet earlier?" Half the field would say, " We can't; 
we were all at Lady So-and-so's till four this morning." 
I know this as well os they do. 1 know they can't; at 
least 1 know they won't; for people now-a-days must en- 
joy late parties, and fox-hunting too, but not fox-hunting 
in perfection, unless they consider hounds racing across 
country perfection. If they do, it is all very well; but I 
really think the Warwickshire drag just as good; indeed 
12 



134 GOING THE PACE, 

better, for they would kill more horses, and that seeilis 
the thing by which we are to judge of the goodness of the 
day's sport! If a young man should be asked in the even- 
ing what sport he had in the morning, he would reply, if 
it had been what he considered good, " Capital! one of the 
best things this season: the horses were lying about in all 
directions; five died in the field; I expect to hear by to- 
morrow's post that mine is dead also.'^ — This would be 
unblushingly told to a lady, I suppose to show what a fine 
fellow the rider must be! Now 1 should really think this 
to a w^oman of a reflecting mind would be about as much 
recommendation as if he had slaughtered an ox, and about 
as much proof of the soundness of his head as of the good- 
ness of his heart. If a horse breaks a limb, his back, o-r 
his neck, hunting, it does not much matter; it is a fair ac- 
cident: and there's an end of him: the rider may share the 
same fate, and sometimes the loss to society is about equal. 
A horse may occasionally be killed by over-exertion, 
without his rider having felt him particularly distressed ; 
but when we find men literally boasting of the number of 
horses killed by themselves and their friends, I am inclined 
to think the heels have been more at work than the head. 
When I state that I consider hounds may be bred too 
fast, I do not mean it solely in allusion to its requiring 
greater speed and exertion on the part of the horses, but 
that I consider it spoils hunting. We may naturally infer, 
that when a man keeps or undertakes the management oi 
a pack of foxhounds, he is a judge of fox-hunting; and, as 
I iiave before said, I doubt not but some of these gentle- 
men, if left to their own inclinations, would like a little 
more real liunting tl-^an fashion allows: but those who keep 
hounds wish to please their friends; they have also a very 
pardonable, nay proper pride in hearing the pack con- 
sidered a crack one, and this they would not be, though 
they might kill their fox, or a brace a-day, unless they ac- 
tually coursed him: hunting up to him would not do. So 
the master goes with the tide; he is master of the hounds; 
but fashion is the master of him. One who only manages 
a pack must of course please his members, or where is the 
cash? That, in keeping foxhounds, goes pretty fast too: 
so the hounds must go the devil's pace to catch that. I 



A BARONET. 135 

venture a hope, that though I do think it is quite possible 
hounds may be too fast, my brother sportsmen will not 
think that I am too slow, for I like fast ones, in men, 
horses, or dogs; but my countryman, John Bull, never 
seems to know any medium; and for this I can in no way 
account: his temperament is by no means enthusiastic in 
any way; yet, where fasliion leads him, he always goes 
" the whole hog," and is never satisfied with what is rea- 
sonable. At present, nothing can be fast enough: but I 
should not be surprised if ten years hence our young sprigs 
of fashion voted the exertion of going fast a bore; and, if 
they did, we should see them hunting in George the Fourth's 
pony phaetons. I should then be held as a savage; a kind 
of ()jibbe\vay, inadmissible, because I like hounds to go as 
fast as any fair hunter can carry me, but at the same time 
letting the pace be such as I can see hounds work — a thing 
I am quite sure many hunting men do not care about one 
farthing. Fox-hunters used to decry coursers, " the mean 
murdering coursing crew," but now they bring fox-hunt- 
ing as near coursing as they can. 

I have said that going out late produces the necessity of 
having very fast hounds: so it does to a certain degree: 
but this is not the " be all and the end all here:" fashion 
is the prbniitn mobile of the thing, and a certain little, and 
it is a little^ feeling among our high-flyers adds to it. For 
instance: I was travelling a few w*eeks since in one of 
those old-fashioned vehicles we have heard of, a four-horse 
coach. In it got as hard-favoured hirsute-looking homo as 
one would wish to see in the smiling month of April. 
They called him Sir Thomas. 0, thinks I, judging from 
his appearance, a deputy from the king of the Cannibal 
Islands, knighted for bringing a caudle cup made of a hu- 
man skull: but 1 was quite wrong, as I found afterwards. 
However, not having the fear of the baronet before my 
eyes, we got on very well together — that is, neither open- 
ing our mouths for the first twelve miles. " At length he 
spoke:" we got better acquainted; and at a certain part of 
the journey I ventured a feeler, by saying it looked like a 
good hunting country — and, I assert, a good hunting coun- 
try it looked — undulating, but not hilly, fair fences, large 
enclosures, and, judging from the foot-marks of cattle anci 



136 THE RIGHT SORT IN MAN OR HOUND. 

tracks of wheels, seemed as if it had carried sound during 
winter. But my hirsute companion differed from me, say- 
ing he knew the country well, and had hunted every inch 
of it: it was the worst country he ever rode over. I 
asked, "Why? was it a bad-scenting country, or were 
foxes scarce?" He said, -'* Neither: but the foxes were 
apt to run rings: it rode light, and as the fences were not 
particularly strong, every fellow could get along, and it 
was a serious annoyance, on 200 guinea horses, to find a 
pack of farmers et cetera riding with one." This, it seemed, 
was the only charge he could bring against the country. 
Well, thinks I, you're an ugly devil to look at, that's poz, 
and from your speech 1 suspect not the best fellow in the 
vs^orld to know. So, because a man might not, like him, 
be able to keep a dozen hunters worth two hundred 
guineas each, yet w^as fond of hunting, this hairy bit of aristo- 
cracy sets up his bristles, because he cannot shake him off. 
I'll answer for it he is a selfish, overbearing savage. Now, 
I tell you what, Ursa Major, I shrewdly suspect the fault 
did not lie in the country or the nags, but that you found 
a few honest fellows, who took the unwarrantable liberty 
of riding as well, or a little better than yourself, and that 
perhaps over some of their own land, where they were so 
unmannerly as to " come between the wind and your no- 
bility," even on horses of less value. How I should like 
to mortify the devil by picking out some forty pound hack- 
looking rum-'un, and having a turn at him. 1 know no- 
thing of what sort of workman he may be; probably much 
better than myself; but as he is neither lighter, younger, 
nor 'much handsomer, if I ever do meet him with hounds, 
I'll have a twist with him, even without picking a nag for 
the express purpose. 

I mention this anecdote, because it just dove-tails with 
a shrewd suspicion I have often entertained, that the fashion- 
able ha])it of calling every run a bore that is not racing 
arises in some measure from the same feeling of selfishness 
and vanity demonstrated in Sir Hairy Headpiece. This 
is a very distinct sort of feeling from that which emanates 
from a good-natured contest with and among brother 
sportsmen during a run, or from that of a high-spirited 
young-' un, who, in the enthusiasm of youth, would say, 



PUPPIES. 137 

"Now only give me the right sort of countr}^, and I'll show 
you the way." 1 would clap him on the back, as I would 
a young hound that had a little too much devil in him, and 
say, ^* You'll be one of the right sort when you know a 
little more: sail away, my fine fellow, and may the winds 
be prosperous for your voyage through life!" Young 
hounds and young sportsmen should both have a little too 
much dash about them at first; nor do I object to see both 
ready for mischief when it only proceeds from mettle and 
high blood. A little rating will perhaps set both right: if 
not, the whipper-in very soon will the one, and a few falls 
the other; the breed is right in both. 

A true fox-hunter and sportsman is no doubt in a gene- 
ral way, however perfect a gentleman he may be, as far 
removed from an effectual fop as two separate things can 
be: yet I have seen among men who ride hunting a very 
fair sprinkling of the latter, and it is chiefly among these 
that we hear the complaint that the run is never fast enough 
or severe enough to please them, insinuating by this that 
both themselves and their horses are so superior that what 
is great to others is bagatelle to them. You will hear such 
chrysali pretending to abuse their horse: if he happens to 
put down his head, they will give him a rap across the ears 
with their whip, with " hold up, brute," to show how little 
they think of 300/.; or, "come up, you old cripple;" or, 
after a brilliant run, " my old screw went like bricks to- 
day." These are the sort of gentry that had better stay 
at home, instead of the farmers; that is, so long as the lat- 
ter conduct themselves inoffensively. The sort of men I 
allude to are pests to Masters of Hounds: they are always 
doing some harm, and don't know how to do good. It is 
quite proper that Almack's or a drawing-room should both 
be exclusive. But fox-hunting is intended for fox-hunters, 
be they who they may, so long as they conduct themselves 
like sportsmen in their several grades of life: yet I am aware 
there is an esprit du corps among a certain clique that 
would, if it could, render fox-hunting exclusive also. But 
in this clique you would never find such names as Dar- 
lington, Alvanley, Kinnaird. Drumlanrig, Wilton, Howth, 
IVlaidstonc, Forester, Wyndham, Smith, Oliver, Peel, and 
a hundred other light and welter weigiits: these are really 

12* 



138 REAL BORES. 

horsemen and sportsmen: they go the pace, it is true, and 
an awful pace they do go; and why? because they must 
do so to be in their place, and in their place they will be: 
but it does not follow that they would not like, by way of 
variety, to sometimes see a little more hunting and less 
racing, and would candidly confess they sometimes find 
the pace a lettle stronger than is convenient. They would 
not be afraid to say so, knowing themselves and their nags 
to be ne plus ultras; the ephemeri would. I would 
quite agree in wishing the pace and country to be such as 
to get rid of the " Pray-catch-my-horse " sort of gentry : 
they are a real nuisance; therefoi-e it is quite fair to wish 
to shake them off. If these good people could ride in bal- 
loons over one's head, it would be all very well, and I 
for one should be glad to see them enjoy themselves: they 
would then be out of the way. In chase, let every one 
take care of himself, as the bull said when he danced among 
the frogs. If you cannot make your own wa}', do not at 
all events get in the way of those who can, which these 
folks always do. Hunting being but an amusement, of 
course every man has a right to ride as he pleases, pro- 
vided he does not interfere with his neighbour. If a man 
chooses to butcher his horse, he may do so, if he neither 
rides over hounds nor induces them to overrun the scent. 
So have the slow coaches as great a rigiU to help each 
other out of all the ditches in Christendom if they like, or 
to carry a lasso to catch each other's horse — (I wonder 
they never thought of this) — provided they do not make 
landowners angry by riding over turnips, wheat, or clover 
leys to make up lost ground, or herd together in perhaps 
the only practicable part of a fence, exerting their custo- 
mary benevolence to each other, all of which they invaria- 
bly do. The pace and country I should like would be just 
such as to make it necessary for a man to ride bold and 
straight, or go home, but still to be such as to allow a fox 
advantage enough to give hounds at times some work to 
get at him. By work, I mean nose work. Without this, 
I must say I consider a great deal of the zest, anxiety, and 
beauty of hunting is lost; that is, to a man who enjoys see- 
ing hounds, and seeing them hunt; and dearlj^ I love a 
fox-hound. 



SPREES GOOD, BETTER, AND BEST. 139 

If I was asked, whether I did not consider fifty men 
well mounted sett lug each other across a certahi distance 
of country a good sjDree, I should of course say it was; and 
if there were no hounds to be got at, I should join in it. 
Doing this with a drag would be a far better spree; and 
really if hounds after a fox are only to race across country, 
it brings hunting merely to spree the third and best. 

I have, in speaking of the pace hounds now go, made 
use of the terms noiv and noiv-a-days: in doing so, I m.ean 
it in reference to what I have heard they did perhaps fifty 
years ago; for I am not aware they go faster than they al- 
ways have gone since I first hunted. I am quite clear 
that I never saw as good real hunting as my ancestors did. 
I have seen bolder and better riding most decidedly: but 
as to hunting, I have seen more of that in one week's 
cub-hunting than in a whole season's regular hunting; and 
I fancy 1 really do know what hunting means. At all 
events, 1 was blooded when only seven years old. It may 
be said that practice never improves some people: this may 
be my case; if it is, I can't help it. 

Let us suppose hounds to have been streaming away a 
burst of four or five miles, have come to a check, and the 
huntsman not at the moment up with them. On his get- 
ting to them, it would be of the first importance to him to 
know what hound or hounds were leading, or rather had 
been. If it were some particular hounds, he would know 
to all but a certainty that so far his fox had come; and on 
making a cast forward, they would hit it olT again. If, on 
the contrary, the leading hounds were wildish ones, and 
such as (when assisted by wild riders) he could not quite 
trust, he would then have to judge for himself, and then 
head comes in request. Now I will venture to say, that 
ask three-fourths of the field as to which or what hounds 
had brought on the scent to a given s])ot, they had no more 
looked at the hounds than they had at the heavens. How 
should they? 1 hey had been attending to their horses, 
looking how Lord Such-a-one and the JNIessrs. So-and-so 
ivcnt: this had given them plenty of work for head, hands, 
and Jieels — with some perhaps the two latter having been 
most employed. As to the hounds, whether they had been 
running riot, heel, or hare, they knew not, and cared not 



140 "morgan rattler." 

so long as they kept going. Are such fox-hunters? No; 
but I will mention an anecdote of one who was. 

I was out with the Old Berkeley; the hounds had been 

going a killing pace, the huntsman beat. Mr. M , as 

bold a rider as ever faced a fence, was, as usual, up with 
them. We came to a check: "hold hard! hold hard!" 
cries M — : "give them room." Several hounds spoke: 
not a word of encouragement from M — . At last a couple 
on the other side of the hedge opened. "Yoicks, Rival, 
and Rory!" cries M-^; "that's it." Over he went with 
a screech that made the country ring agnin, capping them 
on, and riding like mad. In a few fields we ran in to our 

fox Who-whoop! This was something like the 

thing, and 710 mistake/ 

And now as to pace so far as it relates to horses. "It is 
the pace that kills," said Meynell, and he was right. I 
know what fast, veri/ fast horses are, my weight enabling 
me to ride thoroughbred ones: but even blood is to be 
distressed, and I must say I always feel that when distress 
comes on, pleasure goes off. Some do not think so; but 
of such perhaps the less we say the better. 

Having hitherto complimented the Ae^/f/ and hands quite 
sufficiently, I am quite ready to allow the heels their fair 
share; and so useful do I think them, wlien controlled by 
the head and actiuij; in concert with the hands, ihat when 
on horseback 1 consider they should in most cases have a 
pair of spurs attached to them. The only difference of 
opinion between myself and soine others of their utility 
consists in this, they begin to use them most when I con- 
sider they ought not to be used al all, namely, when their 
horse is beat. I consider spurs should be worn for more 
reasons than I shall now specify: but of these I will men- 
tion a few. Many horses, I think indeed the generality of 
them, go livelier and safer when tliey are aware we have 
^ spurs on: it keeps them on the qui vive, and frequently 
prevents them attempting to do wrong, knowing we have 
so ready a mode of punishment at hand, or rather at heel. 
If we want an unlooked-for and momentary exertion made, 
nothing produces it like the spurs. If a horse becomes re- 
fractory, we probably (nay certainly) want both hands for 
our reins: Vv^hat could wc (]o in this case without spurs? 



A VERY SENSIBLE MARE. 141 

With a horse which is apt to swerve at his fences, we can- 
not so well keep him straight with one hand while we use 
the whip with the other: here the spurs must come into 
use, and in such a case, cork him tight, and that with a pair 
of Latchford's best. Still this would not do in all cases. 
I can mention one. 

I had a mare, as fine a fencer as ever was ridden, but a 
little nervous in facing any thing that looked unusually big 
and thick. I could always tell a hundred yards before 1 
came to it if she was frightened. In this case I just took 
a gentle pull at her, spoke to her, or gave her a pat on the 
neck, and over she went to a certainty. -'Instead of this," 
but touch her with a spur, she would stop dead, and kick 
a town down. For this reason I never rode her with spurs. 
This is, however, a case of rare occurrence, though some 
race-horses will do nothing if they know you have spurs 
on, and are forced to be ridden without. The mare I al- 
lude to had several times sent her late master over her 
head: she was always a little fidgety on being mounted; 
but after I had given her a gentle kick or two with my 
heels, and she found no spurs were in the case, she became 
perfectly quiet, and one of the pleasantest hunters living. 

Spurs are at times to be made the means of assisting a 
horse, in deep ground particularly: bring your horse's nose 
a little closer to his chest, touch him lightly with the spurs, 
and he collects himself directly, shortens his stride, and 
gets through dirt with half the labour he would otherwise 
do. In short, spurs judiciously used are a hint to a horse 
as to what we want him to do, a means of making him do 
it, and a very proper and severe punishment when he re- 
fuses to do this, or at all events to try. But as I think we 
ought not to wish him to go when in a state unfit to go, 
though I do not presume to dictate to others, I shall con- 
tinue my old practice of keeping my spurs quiet just when 
many others begin making the most use of theirs. 1 may 
be wrong, but I am sure my horses have never thought so; 
and as I always make them do what is right to please me, 
I think it but fair I should sometimes do what is just to 
please them, or, to say the least, not to abuse them. 

I recollect reading of some student, having an author to 
translate whose writing was somewhat difficult to turn 



142 MATIERE EMBROUILLE. 

into English from his peculiar idioms; so whenever he 
came to a passage he could not perfectly comprehend, he 
always made a marginal note to this effect, " raaiiere ern- 
hrouilley I shall esteem myself particularly favoured, if, 
on reading these sheets of" Heads, Hands, and Heels," 
the reader does not make the same note on the whole: but 
different ideas have struck me as I got along, and in my 
harumscarum omnium gatherum, way I have traversed a 
much wider field than I ever contemplated entering. Ha- 
ving, however, got so Air in the mire, I may as well plunge 
a little farther, and try to get out with as little detriment 
to myself or the patience of the reader as I possibly can. 

I have ventured my crude ideas on colt-breeders, break- 
ers, trainers, jockeys, stable-boys, huntsmen, gentlemen, 
and I know not who besides — a something about racing, 
and hounds and hunting — and also of riding hunting, which 
I know is rather a dangerous subject to treat upon: but as 
I am seldom personal in my remarks, I trust I as seldom 
give offence; and this imboldens me, after having ventured 
some hints on riding, to risk one more on the subject of the 
kind of horse to ride— 1 mean with hounds. 

From the days when men went hunting on demi-peak 
saddles, not merely with cruppers, but a light breeching, 
their horses' tails in a club, and a large single-headed curb 
bit, to the year 1750 — when our good grandpapas went 
out at four in the morning enpapillotes with overall worsted 
stockings — any thing like a thorough-bred horse as a hun- 
ter was never even thought of; and indeed until within the 
last twenty years the hunter and the race horse were con- 
sidered as distinct from each other as two valuable animals 
of the same species could well be. In fact, in those days — 
I need go no farther back than fifty years — the qualities 
of the thorough-bred horse were not called for in the hun- 
ter, at least they were not indispensable, as they now are; 
but such is my predilection in favour of blood, that though 
hounds did not go the pace fifty years since they do now, 
I feel satisfied that at the pace they did then go our ances- 
tors would have been much better carried by highly-bred 
horses than they were by the kind of horse they then rode. 
If hounds went fast, the nearly or quite thorough-bred one 
could do the thing; if they did not, he would have carried 



"CATCH HIM WHO CAN." 143 

them with the greater ease. 1 am quite aware that it 
would be very difficult indeed to get thorough-bred ones 
equal to some men's weight. If a man is only fit to be 
moved on a timber-carriage he must judge for himself; but 
I really think any moderate weight may, if he selects them 
properly, and gives money enough, find horses all but, if 
not quite, thorough-bred that can carry him. In proof 
of what blood will do, f will mention one instance, and, 
as it occurred with a horse of my own, I can vouch for its 
authenticity. 

A friend of mine, who was an honest sixteen stone in 
his saddle, had sent his hunter to my house to hunt the 
next day, and came himself by coach, I engaging to lend 
him a hack to ride to covert. I had just bought a very 
neat thorough-bred horse that had been running, four years 
old; him I had ordered to be saddled for myself, and a 
very fair useful kind of hunter that I drove in my buggy, 
being a bit of a trotter, for my friend. However, more 
from joke than any thing else, he would mount the tho- 
rough-bred. Having but six miles to go, this did not mat- 
ter; but on coming to the meet, our horses were not there: 
ni}^ friend's groom being a stranger, and the boy who took 
my horse having lately come to me, they had mistaken the 
meet. This w^e did not know, so expected momentarily 
their arrival. The hounds found immediately, and went 
off; when to my utter dismay, off went my friend on my 
little bit of blood, and though I conclude he had never seen 
a fence, 1 can only say, having got the start of me, with 
all the exertion 1 could make over four miles of fair coun- 
try, I never could catch him. It is true he had a man 
on him who would drive a horse either through, in, or 
over any thing; but to see one that I should never have 
thought of hunting with my weight going such a bat with 
sixteen stone satisfied me what blood will do. I do not 
mean to say the horse could have carried him as a hunter j 
but he had had such a specimen of the little one's game 
and powers, that he bought and constantly rode him hack; 
and when I saw him two years afterwards, he had not a 
windgall on any leg. 

I should have thought our ancestors had a tolerable in- 
sight into the weight race-horses can carry when they saw 



144 AN EMBRYO HUNTER. 

the Beacon Course run over by one carrying eighteen stone 
in not above a n)inute and a half more than it usually takes 
to do it with elg/it; some people, having heard of such 
things, are apt to carry them too far, and, when told what 
blood will do, go and buy some weedy bad-constitutioned 
wretch, and then are surprised that he cannot carry them 
as a hunter. Now a horse may not be worth one farthing 
as a race-horse, and become first-rate as a hunter: but then 
his not racing must not proceed from any other cause than 
want of speed. If from naturally bad temper, or bad con- 
stitution, he shuts up as a race-horse, so he will as a hunter. 
I am aware, that unless we breed them it is not an easy 
matter to get a thorough-bred horse likely to make a 
hunter; still they are to be had. A good made strengthy 
thorough-bred colt may be tried as a two-year-old, and 
found wanting in speed; m.ay again be tried at three years, 
and fail again: he may then be still held over in the hope 
that when he had nearly done growing he might make a 
valuable Cup-horse, and thus persevered with till five years 
old, occasionally beating still worse than himself, so as just 
to delude his owner, which such horses usually do, master 
all along paying the piper, whose music is not had, as Pad- 
dy says, " for less than nothing." Now this is just the 
sort of nag I should look out for as a hunter — handsome^ 
good constitution, good temper, possessing all we want in 
a race-horse except the chief thing — speed. There is re-^ 
ally magic in that little word speed: it does every things 
from the "terrible-terrible-high-bred-cattle-gentleman," to^ 
the " gee-wo" horse. Yes, reader, the cart-horse should 
have speed; that is, speed as a cart-horse. I have had a 
turn at these sort of gentlemen; have had twelve eating 
my hay and oats, and have learned that pace in their walk, 
makes a difference to the farmer. Defend me from a bell- 
team — I do not mean belle, but a team that carries bells: — 
they will condescend to walk two miles and a half an hour, 
four horses drawing two tons: they look well; so does a 
footman six-feet-two without his shoes; and in point of 
real utility they are about on a par, except to be equally 
pampered, and are both too aristocratic to hurry them- 
selves. 

But speaking of things that really are, or rather were^^ 



A CHASE WITH MUSICAL ACCOMPANIMENT. 145 

speedy, among my other speedy possessions (many of them, 
'^ heu mlfii^^ too speedy in their exit^) I had once aspeed)^ 
donkey, and the way I became possessed of Jack is rather 
curious. I was riding, and on a sudden heard a pattering 
offset behind me, accompanied by, I think, the most dis- 
cordant, all-horrible, all-monstrous, all-prodigious, unearthly 
noise I ever heard. On looking back, 1 found this conca- 
tenation of sweet sounds proceeded from a jackass at full 
speed, accompanied by that amiable companion for an 
evening's ramble, a very large bull-dog, also in full career. 
They passed me. I believe I have seen hunting in all 
shapes, but this was something new; so I determined to see 
the end of the chase. Jack, how^ever, soon left Bully far 
behind, and 1 suppose he thought he had also left all his 
troubles there: but he found (as many a good man has 
done) that troubles hang most cursedly on a scent; and if 
one actually comes to a fault, some other hits it off, and 
'^at's you again." This was the case with Jack; for no 
sooner had he shaken off Bully, than the running was taken 
up by a young fox-hound at his walk at a farm-house — so 
much for the good hounds learn at walk, on which I may 
perhaps at some future time venture a hint or two. How- 
ever, such was really Jack's powers of going, that he also 
beat young sorrows-to-come into the bargain, and made 
good his way to his master's cottage. After a good mile 
heat at a pace that quite prepared my nag for a sweat on 
the morrow, had I intended to give him one. I made up 
my mind at once to buy Jack, for I saw some fun in him. 
Now it was not that he was handsome, nor could I judge 
of his amiability or utility, but as Moore says, 

" Oh 'twas a something more exquisite still !" 

That Jack could go, my horse could swear; that he ought 
to go, the Filho-da-Puta length of his quarters satisfied me; 
but independently of all that, there was a kind of derisive 
catch-if-you-can twist and twirl of his tail while he was 
going, that was irresistible. Seeing me well mounted, the 
cottager, I suppose, considered a guinea or two, more or 
less, was no object to me {Mem. he did not know me;) so 
he succeeded in diddling me out of three guineas for Jack, 
13 



146 A SELL. 

(just three times what he would have sold him for iri it 
common way, and have given the Filho-da-Puta quarters 
and knowing twist of his tail into the bargain,) nor would 
he then send Jack to my house without the proriiise of a 
gallon of beer. I have no doubt the whole family at the 
cottage thought a good deal of business had been done in a 
short time — they had sold one ass and found another. 1 
Was right after all; and neither Jack nor I had so much of 
the ass in us as we looked to have. I put Jack into posi^ 
tive training; first, in order to see what difference could be 
made in the animal by such treatment; and, secondly, 
meaning to astonish the natives at a revel in a village close 
by with my newly purchased racer. He trained on won- 
derfully, and I found, that however thistles may he consi-- 
dered by these gentry as a bonne bouc/ie, oats made a great 
change in appearance and spirits. One day, however, I 
conclude the boy had giv^en him a little more in the gal- 
loping way than Jack approved, for he sent up his heels^ 
put down his head, and over it the boy came. Jaok most 
uncourteously left without taking leave, and came home at 
apace that said "Swaffham forever!" Some friends dined 
with me next day, and our conversation about two horses 
they had ridden to my house ended in my taking the shine 
out of them, by saying, I had a jackass, that, give him two 
hundred yards, should beat either of their horses a mile 
next day. This put them on their mettle, and the bet ran 
thus — if they beat. Jack W\^s theirs: if Jack beat, they en- 
gaged to give a ten pound note for him. Jack vvas treated 
next morning to two runs home loose, pursued by a man 
on horseback smacking a good sounding hunting-whip after 
him. In the afternoon my friends came, and we went to 
the place of starting. Jack knew it well Now my friends 
expected the boy who rode him up to the start Would also 
ride him home. No such thing: his saddle was taken off": 
the bridle (made ready) at the word "go " was slipped off, 
and, as before, away came Jack, giving the immortal twirl 
of the tail, and an occasional kick uj), with an accompani- 
ment not to be mentioned to ears polite. I do not think 
they gained twenty yards on him. I must allow they both 
laughed too heartily all the way to do their best; but if they 
had, the}' could not have caught him. I pocketed my note. 



" THE HIGH-METTLFD RACEB's A HACK," ETC. ETC. 147 

and they made a note, not too much to underrate donkey- 
speed in future. 

1 hope my reader is interested enough in Jack to wish 
to know what was his after-fate. I can only give this much 
of it: my friends gave him to a friend to carry his son; but 
I am sorry to say, Jack, Hke many people, did not know 
when he was well off, for after pitching little master over 
his head, he was sold to a travelling tinker: it was then 
with my racer Jack, as it often is with many another crack 
— '^ Bellows to mend." 

Let us now return to the cup-horse I said I should be 
inclined to purchase as a hunter. Having made no figure 
as a two, or three, or four years old among first-rate horses, 
por at five having done enough to warrant his being kept 
as a useful second-rater, no doubt his master will be willing 
enough to do what he ought to have done two years before, 
sell him for the best price he could get. In this way a 
really fine five-year old horse may often be got at fifty 
pounds less than he could have been bred for. But the 
purchaser must not of course think he has bought a hunter. 
He might as vvell suppose, because he had bought the pro- 
per quantity of cloth, that he had got a coat; he must get 
the tailor: so for the horse, we must get the horseman, 
with heads, hands, and heels, to make the hunter; upon 
these will the perfection of the coat and the hunter depend. 
I have heard persons say that thorough-bred horses were 
seldom good leapeps: how in the name of common sense 
should they be? they have never been taught to be so. 
Tl)ey can, like all animals, jump if they please in a wild 
way; but to do it safely, coolly, and scientifically, must be 
taught them. They can jump well enough, high and wide 
enough for any thing they want in a state of nature: but 
to take all kinds of artificial fences vv^ell is a perfection to 
be learnt. Of course no race-horse knows any thing about 
it: he has been placed in situations where he never was per- 
mitted to attempt to jump, nor as long as he continues a 
race-horse will he ever be. I dare say neither Bee's-wing 
nor Catherina would take a common hurdle with a man on 
their back willingly; nor would Bran, or Ratcatcher, or 
Sir Hercules: but supposing the three latter were not as 
racers vvhat they were, had 1 beepi fortunate enough to have 



148 SALUTARY LESSONS. 

got them, I rather think, that after I had had them six 
months, I could on them with hounds have been there or 
thereabouts. So far from being thorough-bred militating 
against a horse being a fencer, I maintain it to be a great 
point in his favour. Thorough-bred horses are generally 
better made for spring and propelling powers in their quar- 
ters than other horses. This is just what we want to make 
a leaper; their only fault is one that a little judgment and 
patience will rectif}^, the want of having been taught. The 
great requisites for a hunter are speed, spring, wind, and 
durability: all these the thorough-bred possesses beyond 
all comparison in greater perfection than other horses. 
Why, then, should they not make hunters? Only, as 1 be- 
fore said, get them strong enough. Seventy-four knew 
nothing of fencing when he was first put to steeple-racing, 
and I believe was particularly awkward at it; but he learned 
to jump afterwards; so they will all with practice. I do 
not mean practice with hounds: this, till he knows some- 
thing about it, I consider the worst practice a young horse 
can have. He is in a hurry, and the rider is in a hurry; 
consequently the thing is done in a hurried and slovenly 
manner, if done at all; and at best he only gets over some- 
how. One month's practice, taking the horse out with 
another, where you can pick proper fences for him, and 
bring him on from one thing to another, will teach him 
more than six months with hounds. They need not be 
large ones either: the horse, after having been taught to 
jump coolly and to a certainty eight or nine feet of water, 
will afterwards, when excited with hounds, jump fifteen; 
if he does not, I fear the fault will be in the rider, not the 
horse. 

I have seen a good round number of falls with hounds, 
and have had enough myself to satisfy any reasonable man. 
I speak, therefore, from observation and practice, when I 
assert, that where one fall occurs from large spreading 
fences (if within the bounds of reason,) twenty take place 
at blind awkward small ones. It is to teach the horse how 
to manage these that requires practice, and this it would 
take a very considerable time to teach him with hounds. 
We may in the course of a run come to a fence where the 
ditch is so filled by briers as to be all but imperceptible: 



ANCIENT LAWS AND iVIODEllN LAWS. 149 

we ride him at it; most probably he gets over, but he has 
gained no lesson or experience by this; he is not aware he 
has escaped a trap: but if we had taken him out, we will 
say shooting (and nothing makes a fencer sooner,) he would 
probably have been led over twenty such in the course of 
the morning, for 1 would look out for such for him; he 
would perhaps have blundered into three or four; and, find- 
ing a bed of brambles and thorns is not a bed of roses, that 
one day would make him careful of such for life; and so on 
with other descriptions of difficult places. Fair hunting 
fences he will of course be rode over; and doing these 
when he has nothing to distract his attention from his bu- 
siness — which is the leap — will teach him to do them pro- 
perly, and that in a very short time. Once taught to do 
this, he is a hunter for ever, and a master of his business. 

Of all things, timber is what a horse should be made the 
most perfect in taking, and get the most practice at; first, 
because a mistake at stiff' timber is more fatal in its conse- 
quences than at any other fence; and, secondly, it is a de- 
scription of one that requires on the part of a horse exer- 
tions the least natural to him. Brooks or dry ravines are 
things he would meet with in a state of nature. If gallop- 
ing in a v/ild state he would come to one of these, and was 
excited, he would as naturally extend his stride or bound 
to twenty feet as he had taken twelve in his gallop; but 
timber is quite a different affair. Dame Nature, capital 
workwoman she is in making an oak tree or an heir to an 
estate, never made a five-barred gate in her existence; con- 
sequently she never gave a horse an idea of jumping one. 

in practising horses at a leaping-bar, 1 have often been 
astonished at the absurdities and wanton severity I have 
seen used. It is very common to see a naked bar so ad- 
justed as to fall in case a horse should hit it. Now this is 
the very time when it should be immovable: the allowing 
a bar to give way will spoil all the horses in the world: if 
he is a young or unpractised one, we are positively teach- 
ing him to knock down or attempt to knock down timber 
whenever he sees it, instead of clearing it. How is a horse 
to know we want him to jump over what he finds it easier 
to knock down? And then, if he does knock it down, he 
is often severel}^ flogged for what he does not know is 

la"" 



150 LESSONS FOR BEGINNERS. 

wrong. A bar should be well clothed with furze: this 
teaches a horse it is not to be touched with impunity: it 
should then be confined so as in one respect to be like the 
law of the Medes and Persians, not to be moved ; while in 
another it should, like some laws near home, be left so as 
to be rolled backwards or forwards, just as may suit the 
will of the higher powers. But though it may do this, let 
a horse get once hung on it, he would as soon be hung as 
get there again, when he has been taught how to avoid it; 
for before he can get off again, he Vv^ill be in the situation 
I well know you are in a suit of chancery, where, though 
you gain your cause, you are ver}^ comfortably skinned be- 
fore )'ou do so. People will put a bar up perhaps three 
feet high, and say "he can jump that if lie can jump any 
thing." We know that; but at first he cannot jump any 
thing in height, at least he does not know that he can, 
never having probably tried ; so, as to him, it seems an im- 
passable barrier: he naturally enough does not try: but he 
tries to shove it down; if it gives way, he is spoiled; if not, 
he is flogged because he does not do what he does not know 
how to set about doing. He then probably turns sulky, 
and kicks at you: then he gets flogged for that; so he gets 
twice flogged, as boys often do at cheap schools, from the 
ignorance of his tutor. If the horse never saw a bar before, 
lay it on the ground — yes, positively on the ground, you 
will see he will make a jump even at that: probably that 
would have carried him over two feet. He has already 
learned two things at this one jump; namely, that by jump- 
ing he gets over the obstacle, and that he can jump two 
feet high: this even he did not know before: raise it six 
inches, he will take it next time at that height: let him do 
that two or three times, caress him, and send him away: 
he has done enough for his first lesson, and has learned a 
good deal. Put it on the ground again next day; you are 
sure he will not refuse that: then again the six inches; 
then a foot, and so on: he will take three feet in a week, 
and very shortly the height of a gate. Another may at the 
end of a fortnight have been driven and flogged over as 
great or a greater height than mine has taken; but if he 
has, I will answer for it he has sometimes jumped it, some- 
times tumbled over it; and very often refused it. He has 



HORSEMEN NOT WANTED AT THE BAR. 151 

only learned, that by making a kind of effort of some sort, 
he can sometimes get over his leap, and sometimes tumble 
over it: mine has got his lesson perfectly; knows how to 
set about the thing scientifically; feels and knows, by very 
moderate exertion, he can do the thing to a certainty; is 
not afraid of it; so never refuses it, either from want of 
confidence in his own powers, or from having been dis- 
gusted with leaping from its having been made a punish- 
ment to him. People generally make a horse jump too 
often over the same thing: this farther disgusts him: when 
he has acquitted himself well, leave off; otherwise you tire 
and put him out of humour. 

I have heard people give as a reason for having leaping- 
bars made to go down, that they do it for the safety of the 
•' man." This would be all very well if bars were intended 
for men to ride over; but they are not: they are only in- 
tended to teach young horses the rudiments of leaping in 
hand. If you wish to show how a horse will carry over a 
fence, take him to a proper place, and there ride at hedges, 
ditches, hurdles, or gates, as you please, and leave the bar 
in the school-room. A young horse left to the tuition of a 
groom seldom makes a neat and perfect fencer: they drive 
horses over their fences; this causes them to rush headlong 
at them; by doing which they either blunder into them, 
or do, what is almost as bad, take twice as much out of 
themselves as they have any occasion to do. This soon 
beats them, and then they cannot, if they would, jump high 
or wide enough. A horse, in taking his spring, should be 
taught to do in the field what his master should do after 
dinner — take enough, and not too much: doing the reverse 
will tell on both in time. 

It is all very well to say that some men, like the friend 
I mentioned on my thorough-bred, will drive a horse in, 
through, or over any thing; this will do, and is quite pro- 
per with a horse who knows how to do his business, but 
will shirk it if he can; but it will not do with a young one. 
If an old offender, who, from sheer roguishness, vvill swerve 
or balk his fences if he can, keep an ash-plant between his 
ears that you have taught him will visit one or other side 
of his nose, according to tlie side he swerves to; send him 
at it so as to persuade him he must go in, if he does not go 



152 HANDS, ^EEJ,S, AND HEADS. 

over: if Tie should choose the former, which is very un- 
likely under such circumstances, afford him no assistance 
to get out till you have given him a good thrashing while 
in: he got into the scrape from laziness or roguishness, and 
deserves all he gets. Strongly as I at all times advocate 
the greatest kindness to horses, I can be as severe as any 
body with a lazy or badly-disposed one, and can bring both 
hands and heels into pretty free use; but I hope I always 
use some head in considering whether a refusal of my 
wishes proceeds from ignorance or inability, or from other 
causes: too many, I fear, suffer when the former is the case. 
While writing these wandering observfitions, the heels 
have had a sinecure. I have made considerable use of the 
hands, and some, though perhaps very indifferent, use of 
the head. I shall, however, now use the latter for a pur- 
pose to which, perhaps, my reader may say I ought to have 
(levoted it long ago — making my bow. 



153 



HINTS ON HORSE-DEALERS AND DEALERS 
IN HORSES. 



Qui capit ille facit. — Old Proverb. 



That readers should attach credence or give attention 
to the observations, opinions, or facts promulgated by any 
writer, it is necessary, or, to say the least, quite desirable, 
that they should be impressed with the opinion that he is 
quite conversant with the subject or subjects on which he 
writes. That I am so, I must earnestl}' but very respect- 
fully beg the public to lake my word: that I am equally 
competent to write upon such subjects is quite another 
matter: I am perfectly satisfied I am not. Still this will 
not render what I write one atoni of less utility. Facts 
are still facts, however homely may be the language in 
which they are set forth; and if the public derives any ad- 
vantage from those facts being set forth, the end will be 
just as well attained as if they were clothed in the most 
erudite or poetic language that inspiration could suggest. 

Before any one can be capable of guarding others against 
errors and impositions, he must first make himself perfectly 
master of in what those errors consist, and how the impo- 
sition is practised. To guard others against errors, expe- 
rience in the cases where those errors are committed will 
suffice: but to detect the means by which impositions are 
practised, it becomes necessary to get among those who 
practise them; to place yourself by some means in situations 
where you can hear their private conversations, get inti- 
mately acquainted with the tools or means emplo^-ed, and 
perfectly learn how those tools are made use of: then, and 
not till then, is any one qualified to j^ive beneficial hints 
and advice to others. How or why I have placed myself 
in situations to have seen so muclt of the subjects of these 
hints and observations, matters nothing to the public: suilice 
it to sa}^, I have seen them much, and now offer the results 
of such observations to others, to whom I shall only say. 



154 ^^IF you MQUE WOULD ASK, J SHUN NO QUESTIONS." 

" Si quid novisti rectius istis 
Candidus imperii, si non his utere mecum, 

There is no nation in Europe where the horse is made 
an object of so mucii importance as in England j conse^ 
quently Englishmen are, taking them in the aggregate, 
the best judges of horses in Europe. Most of our nobility 
and men of fortune are so, and English horses are now be-^ 
come, taking them in all the various purposes to which 
they are applied, unquestionably the best in the world. 
'I'he Arab is certainly as particular in the breed of his horse 
Hnd in the care o^ him, as we are here; but his attention 
and care are directed to one particular description of horse, 
and he knows of no other; it is left for England to pro- 
duce horses all bred for, and adapted to, their various pur- 
jiuses, and each of his own class the finest animal in the 
world. Horses for draught, for the road, and for the turf 
have been bred among other nations, and for these purposes 
animals have been produced of a moderate quality. But 
the Leicestershire hunter has been till within a few years 
description of horse confined to the United Kingdom: 
here he has hitherto reigned unattempted to be rivalled j 
for here, and here only, has fox-hunting appeared in the 
^enith of its glory. Haifa century ago a foreigner had nQ 
conception such a description of animal existed. The case 
is now altering very fast, and the spirit of racing, hunting, 
and even steeple-racing, is becoming widely diffused among 
some of our foreign neighbours, Four-in-hand, however, 
still remains among them a complete stutnbling-block; and 
a foreigner is generally about as good a judge of a well ap- 
pointed mail, with its four blood horses, as I should be of 
a Ceylon elephant with his howdah. He likes la parade 
of four horses to his carriage as well as we do; but here his 
gratification ends: that there should be any in driving then> 
does not come within his conception. He would consider 
|t an ungentlemanlike thing to dp, and it would be so in 
his country, where it is not the custom of men of fashion tp 
{\q it. Here, to be a first-rate four-in-hand whip is in a li- 
mited sense held all but an accomplishment. This arises 
in a great measure from the circumstance that to become 
so a man must be or have been either a man of fortune or 
a stage-coachman. His not being or having been the lat- 



A HINT. 155 

ter, leads to llie inference that he is or has been the former. 
Hunting and the turf are also the pursuits of men of fortune. 
That most senseless and unsportsmanlike amusement, 
Steeple-racing, is, I am sorry to say, becoming so< No 
men carry out the axiom, "that whatever is worth doing 
at all, is worth doing well," more than the English do in 
all sporting pursuits. The four-in-hand rage brought out 
among gentlemen some of the best coachmen in the world. 
Hunting, particularly in Leicestershire, has produced amon;i; 
our aristocracy many such Capital workmen across a country 
as to enable them to equal sonie of our professional artists 
in a steeple-race. Racing would probably produce the 
same results, but that the light weights nece.ssary to this 
amusement constantly require deprivation and exertion to 
attain that few gentlemen are found willing to submit to. 

Now all these pursuits undoubtedly render those who 
participate in them iirst-rate judges of the qualifications, 
powers, and merits of the horse for all such purposes as 
gentlemen apply them to; and the constant and consequent 
buying and selling of such horses renders them pretty good 
judges of their relative value as to price. Long may such 
men enjoy such amusements, and long may they possess 
fortunes to do so! There are without doubt pursuits of a 
higher order, pursuits that produce more beneficial results 
to mankind in general; but every man of fortune has an 
undoubted 1 ight to spend that fortune in such pursuits as 
he Conceives affords him the most gratification; and pro- 
vided that pursuit be a harmless one, no one has a right to 
interfere with it. The pursuits of the sportsman, while 
carried on by the gentleman, are generally not only harm- 
less, but beneficial to others. They give employment to 
many, anrl occasion a great deal of money to be circulated. 
This alone must benefit others: how far it may the sports- 
man himself is quite another affair: should the time ever 
arrive when from a reverse of fortune he is no longer able 
to enjoy them, there is perhaps no living being who can 
apply his knowledge to so little beneficial account to him- 
self as the sportsman, or one who can derive so little ad- 
vantage from the money be has spent in his pursuits. 
There have been sOme so situated, who, from having been 
accustomed to drive their own four-in-hand, have derived 



156 GENTLEMEN NO TRADESMEN. 

a good income from becoming stage-coachmen: the Brighton 
and Hath roads particularly boasted several. I know one, 
and one only, who for some time hunted a pack of fox- 
hounds: but these are a few out of hundreds, perhaps thou- 
sands, who have found they could not make their know- 
ledge of horses or horse pursuits available in any beneficial 
pecuniary point of view. It may be supposed that such 
men, with all their experience and knowledge, might, if 
they made up their minds to such a degradation, commence 
business as horse-dealers, livery-stable keepers, commission 
stable keepers, or repository keepers: they might certainly 
commence; but before they can promise themselves to go 
on in any one of these undertakings with any chance of 
success, they must forget or set at naught every sentiment 
they have from infancy been taught to cherish, and oblite- 
rate from their minds all the high-wrought and sensitive 
feelings of the gentleman. No qualified aberration of them 
will do: no, it must be an utter annihilation of them. 

It will be said that this total dereliction of all former 
habits and feelings it is impossible for a gentlemen to 
efiect. I know it is; and for that reason, if he was to 
commence trade, he would not succeed in it. I never yet 
met with or heard of any gentleman who ever did, and I 
will venture to predict that no one ever will — at all events 
in any of the trades or occupations I have mentioned; 
and in all probability a sportsman is still less adapted to 
trade of any other kind. It is not to be supposed that a 
. liberal education militates against a man learning any busi- 
ness; quite the reverse; it would probably assist him in 
so doing: but to learn that business as a tradesman, re- 
quires years of such humilation as no gentleman would or 
could submit to. Ijeing a first rate judge of a horse will 
not enable him to be a horse-dealer. A gentleman may 
know perfectly the relative value of horses, and may easily 
ascertain that of any other article of merchandise. So far 
as buying and selling goes, he may even learn where, and 
in some measure how, to buy and sell to the best advan- 
tage: but this no more qualifies him for a tradesman than 
learning the newest fashions would make the tradesman a 
ge.itleman. I hope I have said enough on this subject to 
prevent any gentleman fancying that, should he ever find 



A LITTLE POACHING. 157 

it necessary, he can, as a dernier ressource, turn those pur^ 
isuits he followed as amateur to any account as a tradesman. 
I have heard many say they were certain they could. I 
only earnestly hope they will never have occasion to try. 

I have stated, that no g;entleman ever has or ever will 
succeed as a regular horse-dealer. That there are, how- 
ever, many who in a private way to a very Considerable 
extent deal in horses is a notorious fact, and a fact as much 
to be regretted as it is impossible to be denied. It is si 
subject of still farther regret, that among them are found 
those who in every other transaction are men of unble- 
mished honour and integrity. If these gentlemen con- 
ceive that they carry on this underhand kind of private 
trade without its calling forth very severe animadversions 
from those who abstain from it, they very much deceivd 
themselves: and they labour iinder the influence of a still 
farther error if they suppose they can continue its practice 
without losing very considerably in point of character in 
the estimation of their friends and acquaintance. Placing 
them in comparison with the regular horse-dealer, I have no 
hesitation in saying, that so far as this pursuit is concerned, 
I consider the latter the most respectable man. He sells 
you a horse openly as a dealer, as a man who disposes of 
him avowedly for profit. You probably place no reliance 
on his word or confidence in his honour. He does not 
ask you to do so, nor is he oflTended if yoti do not. You 
purchase of him in most cases under a written warranty, 
or one given before a Witness. If the horse does not an = 
swer the description given of him, the law ig open to yoii 
for redress; or if you have just cause of complaint, hd 
generally at once takes the horse back. Now if you buy 
of the gentleman dealer in horses, you tfust to his word 
and to his honour. If you are deceived, which by-fhe-by 
you will find by no means an uncommon case, what \% yo6r 
resource? You must either keep your bafgain, bi if you 
hint that you have been taken in, a quarrel ensues, and 
you are called out for presuming to doubt the word or 
honour of a man who in such cases forfeits both perhaps 
twenty times in the year. Such men are, however, as yet 
rare among gentlemen, and 1 trust will long remain so. 
From the moment a gentleman first harbours the idea of 
]4 



158 he'll ro in time. 

making money of horses by buying; and selling them, he 
has taken the first step towards degradation, and then 
facile descensus Averni, He probably, indeed most pro- 
bably, at, first has no farther view than in an honourable 
way av'ailing himself of his superior judgment and taste. 
He is unforturi'ile enough to sell three or four horses to 
advantage. This gives him encouran;ement, and probably 
for the first time in his life he feels the pleasure of making 
money; and he continues to speculate with success. Hither- 
to he has done nothing wrong: his horses have all turned 
out as he represented them. He now, however, happens 
unfortunately to get a horse not quite what he should be. 
What is he to do with him? Is he to sell him at a loss? 
A very sliort time ago he would have done so; but now 
the itch, for making money has taken too firm a hold of 
him. He enters into> a kind of compromise with his con- 
scieiiice, and the horse has really perhaps nothing material 
the matter with him. He avails himself of his position in 
society, and sells him, on his word, as a perfectly sound 
horse. If he prov^e otherwise, he does not allow he had 
been guilty of a deception, but pledges his word of honour, 
that he was sound with him and when he sold him. This 
closes the transaction Having thus escaped with impu- 
nity, instead of taking it as a salutary warning of the 
danger of such transactions — Having once been guilty of 
a dereliction of honour and integrity^, he goes on till he 
unblushingly (in dealers' phrase) sticks a screw into a friend 
whenever he can find ar> opportunity. This is about a fair 
sample of the usual career of those who commence pri- 
vately dealing in horses. It is a pursuit that every gentle- 
man should avoi-d. It is as^ demoralizing in its influence 
on the mind, and eventually as fatal in its efiects as to cha- 
racter, as is the pursuit of the professed gambler and black- 
leg. " AH fair in horse-dealing,'^ is an idea that some per- 
sons profesSi It is a very erroneous one. It is an idea 
that no- sensible or honourable man can seriously entertain. 
There is no- more excuse for premeditated deception in the 
sale ofa^ horse than there is in any other transaction. The 
moment a man can bring himself to think there is, he 
would pick a pocket. 

We will naw look a little into the character and con- 



AB UNO DISCE OMNES. 159 

duct of the regular horse-dealer. 1 know of no class of 
men on whom so j^reat and (what is much more unfair) so 
indiscriminate a share of odium is thrown as on the horse- 
dealer. I am free to allow tliat if we could collect toge- 
ther every person employed, directly and indirectly, openly 
and covertly, in the sale of horses, we should he able to 
exhibit to the world a very tolerable (or it may perhaps 
be said intolerable) mass of iniquity. We must not, how- 
ever, from this draw the inference that it necessarily fol- 
lows all horse-dealers are dishonest. Take them from the 
highest to the lowest, that perhaps nine out of ten are more 
or less so, I think, is very probably the case. But my 
humble opinion, that tradesmen in any other line are pret- 
ty much the same, and in about the same proportion, is 
not perhaps absolutely erroneous. The only difference is 
this: the horse-dealer cheats ^f?c man in the day to the tune 
of twenty-five pounds; the other cheats in smaller sums, 
a hundred in the same time and to the same amount; al- 
ways especially keeping the fact in our minds, that, in ad- 
dition to his hundred customers, he would be as ready as 
the dealer to cheat any one man to the amount of the 
twenty-five pounds if the opportunity offered. There is 
one circumstance that ought to be taken into consideration, 
and pleads very much in favour of the fair horse-dealer 
(supposing our purchase from him does not answer our ex- 
pectation, or perhaps his representation,) that is, the nature 
of the article in which he trades. I know of no one article 
of trade in which a man is so often deceived, and in which he 
so often deceives himself, and in which the horse-dealers are 
often, much oftener than is supposed, deceived themselves. 
Respectable dealers do take every precaution in their power 
not to get an unsound horse into their stables. They can- 
not, however, with all their precaution at all times prevent 
this. But they will not in such a case risk their character 
by selling such a horse to their customers. A horse may 
be purchased in the country from the breeder apparently 
sound: he may have hitherto been so; and yet Ijefore he 
may have been at work one week he may be the very re- 
verse. Some hidden internal cause that the most practised 
eye could not detect may have long existed, the efliects of 
which only become apparent on the animal being put to 
work. Here no blame can possibly attach to the dealer; 



160 FORTITER IN HE. 

jie has bought him with every warranty of soundness: has 
travelled him perhaps a hundred miles home: has had him 
several days in his stable, and found him all he expected: 
he has every right to think him a sound horse; as such he 
sells him: still such a horse may deceive both the dealer 
and purchaser when put to the test of work and change 
pf treatment. Vicious as w^ell as unsound propensities 
in the horse frequently lay dormant for a very conside- 
rable time: they also may be only called forth on change 
of treatment. A really vicious horse in the stable is 
easily detected and to be avoided; but there are tempers 
and dispositions in horses, as well as in men, of which we 
never get the slightest intimation till some hitherto untried 
provocation calls them forth. This probably never has 
pccurred in the stable of the dealer. If a horse is intended 
for harness, which is a description of work that more than 
any other calls forth his vicious propensities, if he has any, 
he is put into a break by the side of a practised break-horse, 
who knows nearly as well what to do by the side of 
.either a timid or violent companion as the man who drives 
them could tell him. I could in fact bring forw^ard in- 
stances of good temper, patience, sagacity, and, when called 
for, determination on the part of some of these horses, 
that would not be credited by those unacquainted with this 
part of the dealer's business. Instances have been known 
of the break-horse being provoked to that pitch by a plun- 
ging and a kicking horse hy his side, that he has caught 
him by the neck between his teeth, and shook and held 
him till he became perfectly quiet. 

The young horse is gradually and carefully brought on 
till he is perfectly steady with a steady helpmate: he is then 
matched and driven with another who has gone through the 
same schooling. The pair are then driven together till both 
are become q.Tiet and handy. The dealer now considers them 
— and certainly is justified in putting them into the hands 
of any customer — as a pair of horses fit to be put to his 
carriage. Still it might and does sometimes happen that 
one or both of them may become unruly or set to kicking 
the first day they are used. This almost invariably arises, 
when it does occur, from injudicious or at least from in- 
considerate treatment. I am quite satisfied that where one 



INDISCRETION NATURAL TO YOUTH. 161 

young horse does mi-chief from vice, ten do it from 
alarm; and there is no telling what a frightened horse will 
attempt or do: he is a thousand times more ditHcult to con- 
trol than the most vicious one. A coachman may have 
driven his carriage for years in perfect safety in all situa- 
tions, and may be an excellent coachman; but if he suffers 
himself to forget he has hold of a pair of young ones, with- 
out any other fault on his part, he will be almost certain to 
get into difficulties and danger, if not worse. A sudden 
stroke of the whip to a young horse, who has perhaps ne- 
ver before felt it, would set him plunging at once. Going 
more rapidly down hill than they have been accustomed to 
do will often alarm young horses. Turning very sharply 
round a corner brings one or the other horse, according to 
the turn right or left, suddenly on the pole, and confuses 
!)im. That most abominable and uncoachmanlike prac^ 
tice of pulling horses shnrp trp at a door throws them 
suddenly on their haunches, causes their feet to slip about 
in all directions, and, unless their mouths are made of 
cist-iron, severely injures them. Old horses will bear 
all this, because (like the eels) they are used to it; but 
depend upon it young ones will not. It may be said they 
should be driven by the dealer till they are as steady as 
old horses: so they have been, and in point of docility and 
temper are disposed to do all that can reasonably be re- 
quired of th?m: but we cannot give the experience or staid 
habits of a man of forty to a lad of sixteen. Boys, it is 
commonly said, wnll be boys; so will young hoises be 
young horses. Like youth in mankind, they must have 
time to gain experience; and till they do gain it, they must 
be treated accordingly. Horses at best are but brutes; and, 
as I have before said, no man can tell what their tempers 
may be when roused. But the tempers of young horses 
never should be roused if gentle usage will prevent it. 
They seldom or ever are, in the hands of the dealer or 
man of judgment. It would be rather an extraordinary 
proceeding on the part of a dealer if he was purposely to 
frighten or irritate the temper of a young horse in order 
to ascertain what under such circumstances he would do. 

There can be no doubt, that of the numerous accidents 
we often see and djily hear of, as occurring to gigs, ph;ie' 

14* 



1G2 "GIVE A DOG A BAD NA:MK/' ETC. 

tons, and other vehicles, three out of four arise from want 
of judgment in the driver. He is not aware of what is 
likely to produce accident; consequently takes no steps to 
prevent it. He has probably no conception that a strap 
buckled too tight or left too loose will render a horse uneasy 
in his harness, irritate his temper, set him plung;ing, and 
finally kicking and running away. This horse might have 
been a week since bought of a dealer, might have been 
driven in a double and single harness, have always gone 
perfectly quiet, and aUviys would have done so if common 
judgment had been used. This is all we have a right to 
expect from a high-spirited horse. He dors not promise 
us to carry a phaeton or gig down a hill on the top of his tail, 
or to be flayed alive by his harness from our carelessness. If 
any person wishes one that would permit this, I recom- 
mend the gentleman a rocking-horse. Now in any case 
of this kind, without making any investigation as to its 
cause, the effect having occurred, the first person censured 
is the dealer. No arguments on earth will persuade the 
purchaser that it arose from any other cause than the deal- 
er having sold him a vicious horse; and he will probably 
feel farther convinced that he well knew he was so. In 
short, whatever failing a horse may exhibit after being 
purchased, whether as to soundness, temper, constitution, 
or any thing else, deservedly or not, the dealer is sure to 
be set down as a rogue. If, even feeling he is not called 
upon to do so, he offers every reparation in his power, or 
makes it, he will be no better off: on the contrary, it will 
be only set down to his disadvantage, as evincing a con- 
sciousness that he vyas to blame. If he refuses to do this, 
the case is carried into a court of law; and whenever any 
horse case does get there, so universally biassed and pre- 
judiced are the feelings of the court in favour of the pur- 
chaser and against the dealer, that though no jury would 
willingly be guilty qf a decision of gross injustice, when 
the assertiqns of one party are implicitly believed, and 
those of the other totally the reverse, it is easy to judge 
in whose favour the case will end. 

Another stumbling-block in the way of the dealer arises 
from a cause little suspected by his customers. This arises 
from their servants. If the dealer does not submit to be 



A FIX. 163 

pillaged by them, it matters little how good may be the 
horse he sells: he will be made to turn out badly by some 
means or other. 

Let it be understood that I am now speaking of ser- 
vants, as of other classes of men, en 7nasse: there are 
many faithful, honest, and attached individuals among 
these; and that there are not more is quite as much the 
fault of the master as of the man; for so long as masters 
will say, ^' 1 knovv my fellow is as great a rascal as ever 
lived, but he turns my cab out so well I cannot part with 
him;" so long does he encourage this man in being so, and 
others to follow his example: and so long as a master or 
mistress will keep servants who they know are daily rob- 
bing them, and nightly associating in public-houses with 
the lowest of the low, probably thieves and pickpockets, 
and retains them jn their service m.erely because they are 
clever in their several capacities, so long will they have 
rascals for their servants; and such the generality of Lon- 
don servants are, or by example shortly become. 

It is no uncommon thing for a gentleman to desire his 
coachman to look out for a pair of horses for his carriage. 
Should he be peremptorily ordered to go to some specified 
dealer, the thing is easy enough: he bargains to get 51. 10/. 
or 15/. for himself? the dealer must add this to the price 
he would otherwise be enabled to take for his horses, and 
there is no farther harm done than the purchaser paying 
in fact for his own servant the additional price put on to 
satisfy his cupidity. Now should the purchaser offer to 
buy the horses at a price about as much less as the sum 
the dealer knows he must give to the servant, what is he 
to do? He has the choice of three alternatives — to pay 
the servant out of his own pocket, lose the sale of his 
horses, or sell them knowing they will be abused, and con- 
sequently bring him into discredit with his customer. 
They will be made, in short, a lasting source of annoy- 
ance to the master, be a theme of constant abuse of the 
coachman from the first day, who will take care they lose 
condition, go badly, and have always something the mat- 
ter with one or both whenever they are wanted; and final- 
ly the master in his own defence will be obliged to sell 



164 DOING A LITTLE BUSINESS. 

them: he loses really a good pair of horses and the dealer 
a good customer. 

Should the master or mistress leave it to their coachman 
to get horses from any person he pleases, then the case 
will be this, or something very like it. He will go to 
different places and different dealers, not to find where or 
of whom he can purchase the horses on the best terms, or 
such as are best suited to the purpose of his employer, 
but to find where and of who.ii he is likely to make the 
most for himself in the shape of bribe. If he sees a pair 
of really good sound horses, and finds he is only to expect 
a couple of sovereigns; he rejects them at once and for 
ever. If he then sees a pair by no means intrinsically so 
good, and finds he is to get ten, he considers of them, and 
leaves the deal open till he sees if he cannot do better 'for 
himself.) Now, if he finds a pair of very fine-looking 
horses in the hands of some low dealers, both of which 
he knows to be screws, and he is to get fifteen sovereigns 
if they are purchased, in such a case the master or mistress 
trusting to his judgment, they are purchased. Now, here 
will follow very different treatment to what befell the 
unfortunate horses where the dealer did not " come down 
handsomely.'' The<e horses will be kept in the finest 
possible condition: no notice is taken of any unsoundness 
in them; should one go half blind in a month, and the 
other lame, if not very visibly so, nothing is said about the 
matter; and while no complaints are made on the part cf 
the coachman, probably no inquiries are made on that of 
the master or mistress: the horses look well, do their work 
probably as well as sound horses, and the owner continues 
to be drawn by a blind one and a lame one, till coachee 
begins to think — the horses having done their work for 
twelve months — it is time to begin thinking of making a 
little more money for himself. Then the half-blind one 
has taken a bad cold ever since that wet night when they 
waited so long at Lady So-and-so's rout, and it has fallen 
into his eyes: and the other suddenly falls lame while in 
the carriage. Coachee pulls up, gets down, and looks at 
him; "supposes it a little strain: he did observe him slide 
a bit turning the corner; dares say it will go off'." — N. B. 
It never does though; nor does the other recover his sight. 



NICE LADS. 165 

The few clays' rest that was to have set all to rights has 
not done so, but it has given coachee time to get another 
pair ready "cut and dried." The lady cannot longer do 
without her carriage: what is to be done? " It is a great 
pity! they were a nice pair of horses! no horses could 
have gone better till this happened!" The lady agrees 
that they did so, and believes it; but what is to be done? 
She wants the carriage, and can no longer do without it. 
Now, though coachee had quite made up his mind that the 
horses should go without the carriage, it is impossible for 
the lady to make the carriage go without the horses; so it 
ends in his being desired to sell them. This he promises 
to do to the best advantage — to himself he means. And 
here he sees a fine field for speculation open to him^ — in 
the pair to be sold, and in the pair to be bought. The 
first thing he does is to get a pack of low dealers to see 
these horses: we will say, taking them as they are, they 
are worth 70/. as a pair of job horses: in short, they are 
worth as much as when they were bought. His next ob- 
ject is to find among this set, who will give him most; if 
he can persuade his lady to take 40/., he selects the best 
customer; and, to show his own perfect honesty, gets his 
lady to see the purchaser, and hear what he says about the 
horses. He (the purchaser) is made quite au fait as to 
what he is to say, and the kind of observations to make. 
It would not do to speak in lowering terms of the horses 
so far as regards their class and quality. If he did, where 
would be his friend coachee's judgment in buying them? 
No; he goes upon another tack. "They have been as 
fine a pair of horses as he would wish to see: he would 
rather give 150/. for such a pair sound, than 40/. for them 
as they are. He knows a nobleman who would give 50/. 
for the buying of such a pair at 150/." He well knows 
they cost the lady 200/.; and thus he gives his friend 
coachee a lift: and from what he says, the lady is satisfied 
she did not pay too much for them. It ends in his buying 
them at 40/.; coachee pockets 10/., with 15/. in prospectii 
for buying the next pair; which, to show his zeal in his 
lady's cause, he fortunately finds the next day. With 
them the same game will be played, hereafter only taking 
care there shall be a variation in the nioves. 



I 5'6 UNITY IS STRENGTH. 

These sort of transactions ef course could not be cnrrled 
on where the coachman has a master who knows any thing 
about horses; nor would any -respectable dealer join in 
them. But in almost every case, the servant by hook or 
by crook will be paid; nor will paying these gentry be 
always sufficient, i^et a nobleman'8 coachman go into a 
dealer's yard, he must be shaken by the hand; and if any 
conversation is requisite, it must be over a bottle of wine: 
he will expect to be treated something on the footins; of a 
friend by the first-rate dealers. Now, could a gentleman 
submit to this? No; he certainly could not: he must, 
however, if he turns horse-dealer, or lose a customer. 

This is only one among the many humiliations that a 
tradesman must submit to, and which no gentleman could 
brook. I may be asked, how or why the customer would 
fee lost? The reply is, because the coachman would be 
offended. This leads to the very natural quaere of whether 
I suppose a nobleman is to be dictated to by his coachman 
as to who the dealer may be he may choose to patronize? 
Certainly not dictated to by words; but the manoeuvres of 
the coachman will in nine cases out of ten bring the thing 
to bear. A master, if he is a man in high life, cannot be 
constantly overlooking his stables or servants; and if he 
finds every horse he buys of a particular dealer turns out 
badly (though he may suspect there is some roguery in the 
case,) he has no resource but to go to another, which most 
men in hl^h life would do rather than take the trouble of 
investigation. It is this desire to avoid trouble that chiefly 
leaves people of fashion so completely at the mercy of 
their servants as they are; and, let them flatter themselves 
as they will, they are much more under their dominion 
than they suppose. This is one great reason why the man 
of 60,000/. a-year pays one price for every article that 
goes into the house or stable, and the man of 1000/. a-j^ear 
another. Tradesmen who charge exorbitantly can pay 
servants exorbitantly; and they in most cases contrive that 
a man of fortune shall deal with none other. There is 
one invisible machinery in all very large establishments 
worked by the servants for their own peculiar benefit; in 
the working of which, from the highest to the lowest, 
they vrill join; and till this is put a stop to, people in high 



A DEEP ROGUE. 167 

life must be content to be pillaged. To stop this would 
require a good deal of trouble and resolution. 

One instance where it was done in the establishment of 
a nobleman of very high rank came under my immediate 
observation, and this probably never would have been 
done but from the fallowing, circumstance, for the perfect 
truth of which I can vouch. 

Lord A. had been in the habit of permitting his body- 
coachman to purchase all the forage required for the stables 
in London of whom he pleased. A relative of a particu- 
lar friend of his Lordship purchased an estate a few miles 
from towuy to which was attached a hay-farm. My Lord 
WMs requested to allow this gentleman to supply what hay 
was wanted for his stables, which request was immediately 
granted. The coachman offered no opposition ostensibly 
to this arrangement, and the bay that was sent in was as 
good as hay could be: but somehow the horses did not eat 
it, and consequently lost condition. This became apparent 
to Lord A., and the coachman was ordered up to account 
for it. He at once allowed the horses did not look as they 
did, and accounted for it by roundly asserting that they 
would not touch the hay lately sent in: they had always 
done well on the hay they had before; but this hay eat 
they would not. Notwithstanding this very satisfactory 
explanation, some suspicion arose in his Lordship's mind 
that there was something not quite right at the bottom of 
this. The coachman was told he might go, and some alte- 
ration should be made. Now Coachee thought any altera- 
tion would be better than that hay should be sent without 
his being well paid for it. He confidently felt he had 
played his part in the farce so well that the denouement 
must be the discomfiture of his enemy, and his own 
triumph. A flourish of trumpets — exit coachman. Un- 
fortunately for him, however, the next scene was of a very 
different cast. The gentleman, who was the promoter 
of the hay, being sent, called, when a little consultation 
took place on the subject. The gentleman went imme- 
diately to the stables, and there, sure enough, saw the 
racks full of hay, but not a single horse eating. The 
coachman pulled out a piece, and certainly the odour was 
any thing but such as to tempt a horse accustomed to 



168 THE TABLE TURNED. 

good hay. So far all was well, and the coachman con- 
cluded the business settled; but the gentleman took the 
liberty of ascending to the loft, and there found the unpre- 
pared hay as fragrant as hay could be. The thing was 
now plain enough, and he took a lock of the prepared 
and unprepared hay to Lord A. The coachman was or- 
dered up, whose manner on his re-appearance was of course 
ludicrous enough when compared with his late triumphal 
exit. However, his lordship neither condescended to no- 
tice this, nor make any angry remonstrance, but merely 
addressed him as follows: " Moreton, I am going to tell 
you a story. It is very generally known, but probably 
not to you." He then related the well known anecdotd 
of the king of Prussia, who, being constantly annoyed by 
his men letting their caps fall off at reviews, gave it in ge-* 
neral orders that he would flog the first man who did this; 
It appeared arbitrary enough, but the caps did not agaih 
fall off. Having related this, he asked the coachman if he 
did not think this was very hard on the men? The coach- 
man "did consider it very hard indeed."— " Very ^ell," 
said his lordship: "now I am going to be more hard on 
you still: you sa}* you have got bad ha)\ I know that no 
horses can look well on bad hay. But notwithstanding all 
this, if my horses do not eat this hay, and recover their 
condition in one fortnight from this day, at the end of that 
fortnight I will turn you away. Now you may go." He 
did not want a second intimation; but finding his case 
hopeless, the horses did miraculously recover their condi- 
tion, and he kept his situation. Lord A. made no farther 
Remarks on this affair, but it completely opened his ey^s, 
and was the means of his making a minute investigation, 
and a thorough and lasting, reformation in the whole esta- 
blishment. 

Returning to horses, it will be' asked in what way can a 
man of fortune supply himself vvith horses with any chance of 
justice and comfort to himself, supposing him not to be a 
good judge of them? I know, generally speaking, but of 
three ways in which he can do so, and I believe he will 
find in the long run the first I shall mention will turn out 
the cheapest and best. Let him go to some of the first-rate 
dealers, tell them the description of horse he wants, the 



HARD, BUT JUDICIOUS FOR SOME PEOPLE 16(9 

purpose for which he is required, and his particular taste 
in and ideas of a horse for that purpose; let him trust to 
them as to soundness, qualification and price. It is their 
interest and wish to give him satisfaction if they ran. If 
the horse pleases his eye, let him buy him; they will pay 
his servant liberally, but no more than is proper. He in 
return will do them, the buyer and the horse, justice. The 
buyer will pay a strong price I grant, but he will get what 
he wants without risk or trouble. To a man of fortune 
this is no small consideration, and is worth his paying for 
to a reasonable amount. This is the first, and I believe 
the best mode by which he can attain his wishes as ta 
horses. 

His next plan is to get some friend who is known to be 
really a good judge of horses to purchase one for him. 
This friend will probably not mind a little trouble, and 
will find what is wanted at a less price, and as well adapt- 
ed to the purpose as the horse purchased on the first plan. 
But here again the servant of the person for whom the 
horse is being bought will interfere, and unless he gets as 
much as he thinks himself entitled to, all judgment and 
trouble will have been thrown away. If the horse or 
horses have been bought of a private gentleman at a very 
Reasonable price, he cannot afford to came up to the fee 
given by the dealer; and, being probably quite unaware of 
tvhat the servant does consider he is entitled to, he gives 
him a sovereign. This horse will to a dead certainty be 
made to turn out badly: " Master must not be allowed to 
get into this way of buying horses!" The only w^ay 
therefore of giving this harse a chance of success, is for the 
friend to take care that between the seller and the master 
the man is satisfied. It will be said, it is hard that a mas- 
ter should pay his own servant because he chooses to pur- 
chase a horse of a particular person. It is hard ; but with 
the generality of servants it must be done: he must be 
satisfied somehow, or by somebody, or he will be sure to 
beat you, unless you have resolution to adapt Lord A.'s 
Prussian system. Then this plan will do well enough, and 
the horse will do well enough. 

The next mode is breeding. This is in all cases the 
most uncertain, and in the generality th-e most expensive 
15 



170 A BREEDING GENTLEMAN. 

of all. I will take it as it will probably be done by a pri- 
vate gentlemen, and give a rough sketch of its probable 
expense on the most moderate scale: we shall then judge 
a little at what we may expect to get a good five-year-old 
colt ready for use. We will suppose a good sort of mare 
selected for this purpose, if a superior sort of colt is looked 
for — and none other has a chance of paying expenses. The 
mare must be put to a good sort of horse: this we will say 
will cost ol. 5s.: the mare has theo to be kept eleven 
months, and well kept; this cannot be done nnder 18^. 
The colt, after being weaned, must be kept on grass, oats-, 
and hay till he is five years old, before he can be called fit 
for work: this cannot be done, taking one 3'ear with ano-* 
ther, including keep, shoeing, attendance, and breaking, 
under 251. each year. Here we come to 123/. Now, if 
the colts were all to turn out well, and grow into fine 
horses, we should by these means get horses at about the 
same price we could buy the same stamp of horse of any 
respectable dealer. But in lieu of their all turning out 
worth their cost, 123/., we must calculate, that, taking; 
several together, one dies, some get accidents, some grow 
up plain in appearance, and some want action. All theser 
casualties and diminutions of value must be added to the* 
value of what those who do turn out well ought to bring, 
to make the remainder pay their expenses, which to the 
private gentleman they never ^ do or will. We will sup- 
pose he breeds three colts: then these three, at 123/. each,^ 
have cost him 369/. Now, he will be a very fortunate 
breeder if he can calculate on a number as we will on the 
three, by supposing they grow up to be worth, at five years 
old, the following prices: 123/., 106/., and 70/., makmg 
293/. the three. Deduct this from their expenses in rear- 
ing, we shall find he is mimts a little more than 25/. per 
horse by the speculation. 

From the representation 1 have made of the result of a 
gentleman breeding, two questions may naturally be asked 
— 1st, why do so many breed? and 2dlyy how do some 
men make it pay? I will endeavour to reply to both these 
questions. Many begin breeding from knowing nothing 
of its expense, and really thinking they are certain to get 
a very fine horse for very little money. I wish they may: 



BREEDING NOT ALWAYS PROFITABLE. 171 

but they will not. A very great number are tempted to 
breed from having a favourite mare that they have used 
as long as she was fit for work, or has perhaps met with 
an accident that makes her no longer pleasant to use. They 
do not like to sell her to be subject to ill usage — which 
she certainly would be if sold to that 'description of person 
who buj'S worn-out horses. This induces them to breed 
from her, and is certainly the most humane and best rea- 
son a gentleman can give for doing so. If he studied 
economy, he would shoot her. Another person has also 
a favourite — we will say she is a remarkably good animal, 
very fast, and a very fine goer. Because she is so, he 
determines to lay her by in her prime, and breed from 
her, making certain, that, because she is all I have men- 
tioned, her progeny will be so likewise. No idea is more 
erroneous. It sometimes turns out so, but it no more fol- 
lows as a matter of course, or a thing to be in any way 
depended on, than that the son or daughter of an opera- 
dancer should inherit the grace or elasticity of the parent. 
This is well known in the breeding of race-horses. Many 
mares, which were themselves excellent runners, never 
produced one; and others, which never could run them- 
selves, have produced superior race-horses. Some men 
breed for amusement. Fortunately for others, many men 
of large fortune do this, and take the greatest interest in 
the pursuit. Such men do a great deal of good, and de- 
serve the thanks of the community. It is a pursuit worthy 
a man of fortune, as tending to keep up a breed of supe- 
rior horses in the country; but such men do not do it, or 
expect to do it, with profit to themselves. 

Respecting the second question, as to what persons do 
make money by breeding, it is briefly answered in very 
few words. They are men who make a trade of it; and 
I will endeavour to give some little idea how they do 
make it pay. They are usually persons holding large 
tracts of land at a low rent. Instead of paying five 
guineas for putting their mares to the horse, they keep a 
sire or two of their own. These horses, besides servmg 
their own mares, are let out, and are a source of conside- 
rable profit. The persons they employ in the care of their 
ip^res and colts are engaged at half the cost of those em* 



172 PEALING NOT ALL PROFIT. 

ployed by the gentleman breeder; and, what is still of 
more importance, in every way, the master is constantly 
in attendance on them himself. No waste is permitted 
here; no accidents from the carelessness or inattention of 
servants: every thing is well done, but done with the 
strictest economy. At three years old, his colts begin to 
earn their living by tilling or working in some way on the 
ground that produces not only provender for themselves, 
but also for sale. They never do a hard day's work, or 
sufficient work to fatigue them; but doing what is only 
moderate and healthful exercise, they earn what they eat. 
Even the mares, for a certain period in each year, do light 
work, which helps to keep them. By such management, 
fsconomy, and saving of expense, the same colt that at five 
years old would have cost the private gentleman breeder 
123/., does not cost the trader more than half. Thus it is 
clear gentlemen will save nothing by breeding instead of, 
as I have advised, going to the dealer. 

Frequent complaints are made of the enormous prices 
our first-rate dealers demand for their horses. Granted: 
nor can they do themselves justice unless they do so. 
They give enormous prices for them, much more than 
people give them credit for; and they are at enormous ex- 
penses in order to get them. The travelling expenses of 
their men and themselves in searching for horses would 
exceed the credibility of persons unacquainted with the 
fact; and without these expenses they could never supply 
themselves with such horses as are fit for their purpose in 
sufficient numbers. Four years ago I saw ten horses El- 
more had bought at a fair, which, where I saw them, 120 
miles from home, had then cost him 1000/. He had 
bought perhaps twenty or thirty others, some at higher, 
some at lower prices. All these had of course to be tra- 
velled home at considerable expense and risk. In travel- 
ling these young fresh horses, some of them are almost 
certain to be taken sick, and have to be left on the journey 
with a man to attend them. Here is additional expense. 
Sometimes a valuable horse gets kicked, or blemished, 
or otherw^ise seriously injured. Every possible pre- 
caution is used to prevent accidents; still they do fre- 
quently occur. When half a dozen of these young horses 



THERE ARE TWO SIDES TO THE BOOK. 173 

are tied together to start in the morning fresh out of the 
stable, they play all sorts of trickt', kicking, re;iring, 
plunging, throwing each other down: I have often seen 
three or four of them, worth 100 guineas a-piece, all down 
together. The surprise is, not that accidents should occur, 
but that they do not occur much oftener than they do. 
Supposing the horses arrived at the dealer's stables: the 
riding-horses have to be rode; if they are not quite steady, 
they must be ridden till they are: the harness horses have 
to be matched, and driven till they are steady and 
handy: and the single horses to be driven till they are also 
steady, and drive pleasantly and light in hand. All this 
takes time and expense, which must of course be added to 
ihe cost price, travelling expenses, accidents, &.c. How 
then, in the name of common sense, can one of these horses 
be sold under a very high price? 

There is, besides the expenditure and casualties I have 
mentioned, another very important item, to be added to 
the dealer's expenses, and that is, bad debts. It may be 
said, that, aware of his being subject to this, he takes it 
into consideration in the price he puts on his horses. 
Doubtless he does so; nor do I consider him or any other 
tradesman an object of commiseration when this occurs, 
provided he only comes in for his proportionate share: but 
it must be reiijembered, that when the horse-dealer meets 
with customers who do not pay him, it is generally for 
rather heavy sums. Added to this is the very long credit 
he is obliged often to give. And so far as regards credit, 
the horse-dealer loses an advantage other tradesmen enjoy. 
I believe, in the usual way, the generality of tradesmen in 
buying their stock get three months' credit, and then give 
their acceptance at two months: not so with the horse- 
dealer. If he goes to a fair and p-urchases, he must pay- 
ready money, and always does so. He is of course quite 
aware of all these expenses, and the disadvantages that he 
labours under, but his customers are not; and from this 
ditierence arises the general, but really erroneous, supposi- 
tion as to the enormous profits of his trade. Profit of 
course he makes; no one woidd wish he should not: but 
\vhen every thing is taken into consideration, he really 
Pf^akes no more than a fair profit. 

15* 



174 ESPRIT DE CORPS. 

We will now suppose that some private individual de- 
termines (that is, so far as he is personally concerned,) the 
dealer shall make no profit at all, and makes up his mind 
to ^o to a fair and purchase horses for his own purpose, 
concluding; that he will be able to purchase the same class 
of horse as the dealer, at the same price. Thinking that 
if he can purchase horses for — say 100/. — that he is aware 
he should be asked 120/. for in London, it would be a con- 
siderable sum saved. So it would, if he could do it. But 
before he can do so, he must first get the judgment of the 
dealer, which he has not; and he must then know where 
to look for the horse he wants; this, being unaccustomed 
to fairs, he will not know, — fur valuable horses are not 
hawked about the streets in such places. Here are two 
great obstacles in the way of his purchasing judiciously; 
but the great probability is, he would not be able to pur- 
chase at all. The regular dealers would not let hinr interr 
fere with their trade: they would combine together to keep 
him out of the market, and would throw a thousand ob? 
stacles in his way, through then^selves and their agents. 
If he did succeed in finding such horses as he \\ ished jt^ 
buy, they would join, outbid him in price, and divide the 
loss among themselves rather than allow him to get them. 
They are very glad to see a country gentleman or breedej,' 
there, who comes with three or four you rig horses for sale, 
nor would they attempt to thwart him if he wanted to 
purchase a horse for his own use: but they certainly would 
consider any nobleman or man of foi'tune, vvho attempted 
the supplying himself with horses from, the same source ag 
themselves as an intruder, and would as certainly prevent his 
doing so, at least to any advantage to himself. Nor, if it is 
taken in a right pointof view, can they well be blamed. Their 
trade is their bread, and if they permitted their customers 
to supply themselves without having recourse to the dealer, 
in the course of time the trade of the dealer would cease, 
or, to say the least, diminish greatly: consequently, with- 
out any ill feeling towards the individual, they know it a 
matter of the first importance to keep him out of their 
market. This same feeling influences every class of men 
in trade, no matter what that trade or business may be. 

We will, however, even suppose that the private gentle- 



PINE FEATHERS MAKE FINE BIRDS. 175 

man does find out the kind of horse he wishes to get, buys 
him, and gets him at the same price a dealer would have 
given for him: his business is only half done then, for he 
is by no means certain he will suit him. He has got him 
at a fair price (I do not mean a play upon the word,) but 
if he should not suit him, he will turn out dear in the end, 
as he will have to sell him, and the odds are 20 to 1 but 
that he loses by him in price, independently of the trouble 
and expense he was at to get him, though the dealer, by 
the same horse, bought at the same price, would have made 
money. Why is this 1 The reason is obvious: the gentle- 
man bought him for his own particular use: he finds he 
does not suit him, nor does he know any person that he 
will. Now, had the dealer bought him, he knows of many 
persons that he will suit. This at once accounts for the 
one losing, while the other gains. It will be asked, per- 
haps, why the horse should be supposed as not likely to 
suit ? I merely consider it probable, from the purchaser 
not having had the opportunity of getting sufficient trial 
to ascertain whether or not he was likely to do so ; for it 
is not to be supposed that with a horse made up for sale, 
:and brought to a fair, a buyer will be allowed to ride or 
..drive five or six miles on trial, which he would be if he 
went to any respectable dealer to whom he was known; 
;and, without something like this trial, few men could judge 
how far a horse would be likely to suit them. Horses are 
to a very great degree objects of taste and caprice: people 
have their own peculiar predilections and fancies respect- 
ing them, which they have a right to enjoy, and if possi- 
ble gratify. If a man wants a set of dining-tables, he has 
only to fix on a set whose dimensions are suited to his pur- 
pose, and whose fashion pleases his eye : they cannot u^ell 
disappoint him when he uses them. A horse may also 
be the size he wants, appenr to go as he wishes, and quite 
please him as to appearance; but though the dinner-table 
is the same thing in the upholsterer's shop or out of it, 
many have found to their cost the horse in the fair and 
out of it is often quite a different thing. He may go very 
handsomely when properly shown, and elated in the noise 
and bustle of a fair; he may also ride very pleasantly under 
such circunistances, but will probably be found a very dif- 



176 SPICED BEEP. 

ferent animal when either shown or ridden without such 
excitement. The dealer is quite a\xare of this, and he can 
have no farther trial than the gentleman; hut his object is 
quite different: the dealer buys to sell, the gentleman to 
use. The horse is shown to both under similar circum- 
stances: the dealer sees that with proper means used he is 
to be made to look well, show well, and go well; that is 
enough for him: for he will take care that the same means 
are used when he off'ers him for sale. In some elucidation 
of this, we will see how differently the gentleman and the 
dealer act. Supposing each going to see a horse with the 
view of purchasing him: the firt>t thing the gentleman re^ 
quests isj that he may not be gitigered, that no whip may 
be used, that he may be allowed to stand as he likes, and 
then go as he likes (this is supposing the gentleman knows 
what he is about:) he is quite right, for this is the way lie 
will be treated while in his possession, and this is the way 
in which he will be allowed to go. If he goes handsomely, 
cheerfully, and well when thus left to himself, he is in al} 
probability naturally a good goer, a free and light-hearted 
horse. Now, let the dealer «;o to look at a horse in a gen-r 
tleman's stable, he will most likely be shown by the groom 
in the same quiet way I have described: to this the dealer- 
has no objection, but he will see a little more of him before 
he buys him: he then makes a positive agreement as to th^ 
price he is to have him for, if he buys him : this, done, he 
tells his own man who generally accompanies him on such 
occasions, to take hold of his head, gives him a ^'corn," in 
other words a bit of ginger, puts him against d^ wall, give^ 
him a few strokes of the whip to waken him a bit, tells his. 
man to ''run on," rattles his whip-ha'.dle in the crown of 
his hat, and then sees how (he horse will look when he 
shows him. The dealer is as right as the gentleman. They 
each wish to see the horse in the way in which he is to 
answer their different purposes, and the purpose for which 
each buys him. The difference, however, between his an- 
swering the purpose of the two buyers is very great. If 
he does not meet the gentleman's views and wislies, he is 
quite in his way; in fact, useless to him. It cannot turn 
out so with the dealer: he has got a youn^j, sound, bloomt 
ing, selling-looking horse, which is enough for him, be his 



THE LONG ODDS. 177 

imperfections in other particulars what they may (at least 
to a certain extent:) if he does not suit one customer he 
will another, and thus he is sure to sell him to some one: 
whereas the gentleman, in getting what does not suit him, 
may think himself well off if he gets rid of him at 15/. or 
201. loss. We will say he is fortunate enough to buy only 
two before he gets a third that does suit, and loses the low- 
est sum, 15/., by each. He had originally g;iven 100/., and 
loses 30/. by the two, besides expenses. How much richer 
is he than if he had gone to the dealer and given him 130/. 
for one that he (the dealer) had bought for 100/.? It 
strikes me, not much, except in one respect, and that is iii 
experience — which, by the by, if he afterwards maUes use 
of it, is really cheap at the 30/. 

I have merely supposed the private gentleman goes tvvice 
to a fair, and gets two horses that do not suit him on trial, 
and have concluded that on his third attempt he has suc- 
ceeded. To show that I am very much below the mark 
in the odds I have given against him, we will suppose that 
he had gone to a dealer's yard and was shown forty or fifty 
horses: out of these he sees nine or ten that, in point of size, 
price, and figure, appear to be likely to answer his purpose. 
Now, if he would at first tell the dealer the particular qua- 
lification he requires in the horse he wishes to buy, he 
would save himself, the dealer, and his servants, a great 
deal of trouble. He would in that case be put on two or 
three out of the ten that happened to possess these parti- 
cular qualifications ; he would be allowed a fair and rea^ 
sonable trial, and would no doubt get what he wanted. 
This will show that the dealer knew there were but two or 
three out of the ten that were likely to meet his particular 
wishes; and also shows that among ten horses, all looking 
like what he wants, it is just seven to three against his 
getting one that is even likely to suit him. He rides the 
three, and finds one, and one- only, of three that he ap- 
proves. As it therefore appears that out of ten horses, each 
of which looked like what he wanted, he finds but one that 
is so, it must be as clear as any demonstration Euclid could 
mike, that had he seen these ten horses in a fair, it is just 
nine to one against his having fixed on the one for his pur- 
pose. Now, when I speak of this horse being fit for his 



178 YOUNG DEVILS. 

purpose, I beg it may be understood that I only mean that 
he finds him so as far as regards pleasantry to ride or drive. 
As to his turning out good, or good for nothing, when put 
to work, that is quite another affair: he must take his chance 
for that, as every man must who buys a young sound un- 
tried horse. In exemplification of this I recall to mind an 
anecdote of Wimbush. I took a friend to him to buy a pair 
of carriage-horses: he fixed on a pair, saw them driven, 
and quite approved of them ; so did I. He then said, " Now, 
Mr. Wimbush, I buy these horses from the recommenda- 
tion of my friend, and I rely on you that they are a pair of 
good horses."— "Pray don't. Sir," says Wimbush; •'! know 
nothing about that. If you want a pair that I can answer 
for as good ones, I will take a pair off a job that I can an- 
swer for; but these young devils I have only bought in a 
fair. I have warranted them quiet in harness and sound, 
and they shall be so to you: but, as to their goodness, you 
must take your chance of that." — My friend bought the 
young devils, as Wimbush called them, and they turned 
out well: but supposing they had proved diametrically the 
reverse, it would have been no fault of his: he could not 
tell what effect different work and different treatment might 
produce: all he could be expected to do, in truth all he could 
do, was to put such horses in his customer's hands, that, as 
far as he had seen or knew of them, were likely to answer 
the purpose for which they were designed. He has then 
done all in his power; his customer has got what he no 
doubt considers the great desideratum to get, young sound 
horses, and must keep them for better for worse, as the 
thing may turn out: they may be very desirable attain- 
ments: I can only say I never bought such in a general way 
for my own use, or ever will, nor would the dealer for his: 
he knows better; he buys such for sale, because he knows 
the generality of his customers will buy none other of him, 
and of course his interest is to meet their wishes and opi- 
nions : his own upon this subject he wisely keeps to himself: 
he knows, and I know, that a young horse from his sta- 
ble cannot be fit to do one day's moderate work under at 
least six weeks from the time of his being purchased. 
Few persons are aware of this; and even those who are so 
are often impatient to get their new purchase to work, and 



EXOTICS. 179 

trust to their luck that he does not get amiss in conse* 
quence. Hence the great number who get all sorts of dis- 
eases soon after being put to work. On this subject, how- 
ever, more anon. 

Very few persons are at all aware of the treatment a 
young valuable horse has undergone before he gets into 
the dealer's hands. In the first place, such a horse has 
never done one day's even moderate work since the day 
he was foaled. The breeder would not risk his doing it 
It matters not to him be he good or good for nothing; he 
merely wants him to look well by the time he means to 
offer him for sale; and provided his constitution and stamina 
are good enough to enable him to be brought to this, it is 
all he requires or cares about. He has tried him suffi- 
ciently to ascertain that he rides pleasantly at the end of 
Jive miles; he is in no way interested in what he might do 
at the end of twenty, nor will he risk his knocking his legs 
about or cutting his ankles by trying. Why should he? 
When he sells him, he does not guaranty to sell you a 
good horse: he gives a warranty that he is a certain age,, 
that he is sound and free from vice; and provided he 
proves to be so, he has conscientiously fulfilled his com- 
pact with the purchaser. 

Now for some months before any of the great fairs, the 
horses the breeder intends sending there are being pre- 
pared for the purpose; that is, by taking no more exercise 
than is absolutely necessary to keep them in health, and 
are literally put up to fatten, like any other beast for mar-- 
ket, placed in an even and waim temperature in the stable,, 
to keep their coats fine; and by the time they are wanted 
for sale are made in every way ripe for the purpose. They 
come out fat, blooming, beautiful in their skins, and of 
course in the highest spirits, but as unfit for and incapable 
of a day's work as the pampered child of a lady of fashion, 
and as sensible of even the slightest variation of the at-^ 
mosphere as any exotic from the hot-house. In this state 
they are sold to the dealer, who is forced to nurse them- 
like children, to get them home in safety, in which, how- 
ever, and particularly in bad weather, he does not alwa}^^ 
succeed. Supposing they do arrive safely at his stables^ 
as he is quite aware how they have been treated,, li© 



ISO USEFUL ANIMALS — VERY. 

is forced (for a time at least) to keep them in the same 
forced and artificial state. He knows well enough that by 
so doing he is laying the foundation for all sorts of dis- 
eases; but what is he to do? He dares not change the 
system, except by slow degrees; and this in a great mea- 
sure he does, if he keeps any of them long enough; but 
probably some of them are sold in two or three days after 
their arrival. Now let me ask, what on earth is an animal 
in this state fit for beyond being shown in a dealer's yard? 
Why literally nothing, till, figuratively speaking, he has 
been taken to pieces and put together again. 

Of all the internal diseases to which the horse is liable, 
and more particularly fat horses, inflammation of the lungs- 
is by far the most prevalent, the most sudden in its com- 
mencement, the most rapid in its progress, and the most 
fatal in its effects. It is to this disease that horses in the' 
state and condition I have mentioned are, more than anj^ 
other, particularly liable. Once attacked by it, unless im- 
mediately and judiciously attended to, two or three dayS' 
bring on the crisis, which under such circumstances mostly 
ends in death: yet do and probably will most persons per- 
severe in putting such horses to work without preparation- 
for it. By so doing, they are unjust to themselves, the- 
animal, and the dealer from whom he has been purchased^. 
who in most cases, however, comes in for all the blame* 
whereas it rests solely with the impatience, ignorance (in? 
this particular,) or obstinacy of the purchaser. No horse* 
in the artificial state 1 have described should be put to' 
even moderate work under about the six weeks I have' 
mentioned before. During this time he should get at least 
two, generally three, doses of physic, and proper exercise, 
which., after the first three weeks, should be daily but gra- 
dually increased. He should also by the same gradual 
means be got to bear a stable of proper temperature, and 
get accustom^ed to change of weather. His drink and his 
food should also be changed, and in lieu of the constant hot 
mashes, hot gruel, hot potatoes, and I know not what 
other trash he was fattened on, good oats and an occasional 
cooling mash should be substituted. By the end of the 
six weeks a large portion of the gross and unhealthy fat 
with which he was loaded will have been got off, and he 



VARIATION AND SPECULATION. 181 

may be put to moderate work with safety. I say mode- 
rate work, for let not the purchaser imagine his horse is 
yet in condition for severe exertion: all that has as yet 
been done for him has only been undoing what never 
ought to have been done; consequently he is now only in 
that state when the proper means of bringing him into 
condition can with safety be resorted to: this, good and 
proper food, good stable manngement, and regular work 
will effect without farther difficulty or danger. There 
may be perhaps many persons who may think the precau- 
tions 1 have pointed out as unnecessary, and the danger 1 
have represented as exaggerated; if there be such, and 
doubtless there are many,"^ let them ask any respectable 
dealer, or any other really good judge of horses, whether 
I am so. If they say I am, I will bow with submission: 
if not, and the advice I have given is acted upon, I shall 
feel my time, so far from having been thrown away, has 
been usefully employed. 

I stated a few pages back, that probably the dealer might 
ask something like 130/. for the horse he had bought at 
100/. Now I by no means intend to infer that this is 
about the average advance he would ask on his purchase: 
this must all depend on the particular merits of each horse. 
What may be his average profits on all his horses, nothing 
but his books can tell. On some his profit will be enor- 
mous, and on soine a very moderate one; some will only 
save their price and expenses; by some he will lose con- 
siderably, while occasionally, from deaths or accidents, he 
must lose both cost-price and expenses in toto. This very 
great fluctuation may appear sinj^ular to a person not con- 
versant with this particular trade: it is, nevertheless, a true 
statement of the fact. 

It never struck me till this moment that I possessed in- 
tuitive genius or talents of the higher order: I am, how- 
ever, now quite convinced that such is the case, inasmuch 
as I found out, in some part of these hints, that a horse is 
not a mahogany dining-table: till he is, the profits on his 
purchase can never be reduced to any thing like a cer- 
tainty. This arises in a great measure from the very 
little time first-rate dealers can bestow in the examination 
16 



182 QUITE THE RIGHT SORT. 

of each horse they buy. A dealer of inferior o;rade, who 
intends purchasing half a dozen horses, can afford to lose 
two or three days in the purchase of them: and if he saves 
201. by so doing, it answers his purpose, and he is well 
paid for his time, trouble, and the numberless underhand 
tricks he has made use of to get them at his own price—* 
of which I purpose giving some idea when I speak of this 
class of dealer. Not so with the large dealer: he purchasCwS 
perhaps fifty high-priced* horses in two days: he cannot 
afford, on an average, ten minutes to the examination of 
each horse: his practised eye and constant habit enable him 
to purchase half a hundred horses, so as, taking them to- 
gether, they pay him; but he could not stand higgling for 
a few pounds in the price of each horse, or even give him- 
self time to investigate every minor circumstance relative 
to each: he buys on a broad scale, and, taking them toge^ 
ther as a lot, buys them well; of course some turn out bet* 
ter, some a little worse, than he at first sight thought them 
to be. Still this off-hand mode of buying pays him; for if 
he devoted a couple of hours to the getting any one par- 
ticular horse five pounds cheaper, by this delay he would 
only gain the five pounds in him, and lose fifty by missing 
five other horses that he would have purchased in these 
two hours. I know of no man who generally gives so 
little trouble in buying a horse, or as a stranger is so de* 
sirable a man to offer a horse to, as one of this class of 
dealers: he sees your horse out; if he does not like him, 
he makes up his njind at once — he would not buy him at 
any price, but generally civilly tells you he is a very clever 
horse, though too big or too little for his purpose; in fact, 
makes some excuse for not purchasing him, so as not to 
offend you. If, on the contrary, he thinks him adopted to 
his purpose, he inquires the price; and if he finds it far 
exceeds his ideas of his value, he states at once that it is 
far beyond what he can afford to give, thanks you for the 
sight of him, wishes you a better customer^ and thinks no 
more about him. On the other hand, if he finds you ask 
something like his estimation of his value, he tells you 
what, as a dealer, he can afford to give; and if you do not 
take it, there is no harm done, lie seldom alters much 
in his offer: if you agree to take it, he gets you to si^n a 



A TRUMP CARD. 183 

receipt and warranty, hands you your money at once, and 
the transaction is ended. 

It not unfrequently happens that a particular horse or 
two are brought into the fair for which an astounding price 
is demanded. This does not frighten a dealer of high re- 
pute: if he really sees him to be what he would call " quite 
a nice one," price does not deter him: he makes up his 
mind to have him, and have him he w^ill; twenty or thirty 
pounds more or less makes no difference in his determina- 
tion, for with a horse of this sort, it is not whether he ex- 
pects to get twenty or thirty pounds' profit, but that he in- 
tends to make eighty or a hundred by him. He, therefore, 
often buys him at a price that makes the bystanders stare 
(if there happen to be any;) he is quite right: he knows 
of purchasers ready for such a horse at any price he may 
choose to ask for him the day he gets him home, for when 
horses get beyond a certain price, their value is nominal. 
It is, in fact, what certain men will give rather than go 
without them. Ho knows this, and it is his interest not 
to let such a horse escape him: he will probably pay better 
than half a dozen of his other purchases. 

It is the usual practice of dealers when they have bought 
say a dozen horses, to send them off to some town ten or 
fifteen miles from the fair. This is done for several rea- 
sons: it gets them thus far on their home the day they are 
bought, they rest better out of the noise of a fair, and it 
saves considerable expense in stable room; for it is a fre- 
quent trick with innkeepers to charge enormously for stalls 
during any of the great fairs. These horses stand in the 
town to which they have been sent, till those that have 
been subsequently purchased arrive, and till the dealer 
himself arrives also. Here he has them all paraded be- 
fore him, or, in more dealer-like phrase, he has a private 
show — to see, on a second inspection, how they look, 
how they go, whether they appear sound, and in a fit 
state to go on. And here, if the reader were in his confi- 
dence, he would hear something like the following re- 
marks, made on the different horses as they are led out. 
We will suppose the dealer has a friend or brother-dealer 
with him, overlooking the lot: — "That's a useful sort of 
nag, and not much too dear. Run on, Jack; that horse 



184 HE GETS HIS PRICE FOR "A PONY." 

goes well; that'll do: go in. . , . Something like this 
is perhaps said of four or five: " Come on, Jack; now I 
like this horse a deal better than 1 did when I saw him 
yesterday. I was very near losing him. I am glad now 
I did not; he is a better nag than I thought he was; he'll 
do : go in." ..." Now here is a hor^^e wants but lit- 
tle to be quite a nice one : I booked him the minute I saw 
him; run on; he can go; he cost a hundred, and cheap 
at the money: come on." . . . The next alters the 
tone a little: " Why, Jack, that ain't the gra}^ I got of the 
parson?" — "Yes, it is, sir." — "Why, I thought him a 
deal bigij;er horse ; but then he makes a deal of himself 
when going, and that deceived me : the parson got the best 
of me: he ain't a bit too cheap, and not a very bad one 
neither; there, go in." . . . "Nowhere comes one of 
the best nags I have bought for some time : 1 look on him 
as the best horse in the fair for leather. 1 gave a good deal 
of money for him, a hundred and fifty; but he is sold at 
three hundred. — (N. B., being sold in this case does not 
mean that he actually is so, but that he will be sold to some 
particular customer so soon as he gets home.) — 1 oflfered a 
hundred for him last year; he was only a baby then; I like 
him better now at the odd fifty; there, go in." .... 
" Come on : why that horse is lame. I said yesterday I 
was sure he did not go level, but the gentleman said he 
never, was lame in his life ; 1 dare say he thought so : he 
must go back; let him be put in a loose box, and I will 
write about him." ..." Ah ! here comes one I was 
sure I should not like. I hated the devil the minute I saw 
him, but I was fool enough to be tempted by price: I 
thought him cheap: sarves me right: there, take him 
away ; I've seen enough of him ; we'll ship him as soon as 
he gets home to somebody at some price." . . " Here's 
a horse I gave plenty of money for ; but he is a nice nag : 

I wanted him for a match for Lady : she is a good 

customer, and I mean to let her have him just for his ex- 
penses; go in, Jack, and bring out the pony." .... 
"There now, if I know what a nice pony is, there's one; 
I gave eighty for him ; he'll roll over — (roll over means 

just double his cost price :) I mean him for Lord ; 

he won't ride one over fourteen hands, and rides eighteen 



A THING IS WORTH WHAT IT WILL FETCH. 185 

stone: he's cheap to him at a hundred and sixty: if such 
men won't pay, and they want to ride, let them go by the 
road wagon." 

This is a tolerably general sample of the kind of ob- 
servations likely to be made on horses bought in a fair; 
and allowing it to be so, the reader will see, that if a dealer 
sometimes buys too dear, how little chance would a person 
unaccustomed to fairs have in attempting to purchase there? 
It cannot be a matter of surprise that the dealer, however 
good a judge he may be, should perhaps buy one out of six 
that may not pay him : it is only surprising that he should 
get so many that do. Let a private individual try to do 
this, and he wilj find his average, in lieu of one out of six 
that may not pay well, will be more likely to be six out of 
seven that he will lose by. Among the horses I supposed 
the dealer as havinii; bought, was one for which he states 
he gave one hundred and fifty, and he is certain of selhng 
him at three hundred. We will allow that one hundred 
and fifty is a strong price for a dealer to give for a harness- 
horse, which, so far as he knows, has only soundness, good 
looks, and action to recommend him, and that a hundred 
and fifty added is a strong profit : granted that it is so ; but 
it by no means follovvs, if he does sell him at three hun- 
dred, that he sells him at a hundred and fifty more than he 
is worth, or indeed even at one sovereign more : the value 
of a thing is what it will sell for. He does, in this case, 
unquestionably sell him at a hundred and fifty, say two 
hundred, more than his general marketable price among 
t\\Q generality of purchasers; but this is not the light in 
which such a horse is to be looked at. He was not pur- 
chased at first for the generality of purchasers, but for a 
particular market — and that market composed of a select 
number of men of fortune, amateurs in horses, who, to 
gratify their vanity, taste, or caprice, or perhaps all to- 
gether, are content to give these sort of prices. The man 
of wealth and fashion will have his gratifications (no mat- 
ter in what:) he expects and is willing to pay for them. 
If his cook is really a superior arliste, he gives him a hun- 
dred or a hundred and fifty pounds a-year — pretty strong 
wages, no doubt: still, if other men of the same rank would 
be willing to give this cook {artislr, I beg his pardon) the 

16* 



X86 A HORSE-DEALER NO BROKER. 

same, that is the man's value among those who can afford 
to employ him — I again beg his pardon; I should say, 
avail themselves of his talents. It is just so with the horse: 
so long as he is kept and used by the same class, so long 
he is worth the three hundred, and if he changed hands 
among this class, would bring the same price. Though the 
dealer had a particular customer in his mind's eye when 
he bought this horse, and sold him to this identical custo- 
mer, he perhaps knew of several others who would have 
purchased him at a similar price. In this case then he in 
reality sold the animal for no more than his value to the 
purchaser, though paying a high profit to the dealer. 

This brings u])on the carpet another pnge in the cata- 
logue of crimes placed to the account of the dealer, which 
is, the difference between buying of^ and' selling to him. 
On this subject much more might be said than 1 intend 
troubling the reader with. I must, however, remark, as a 
primary clause of my defence of him in this particular, 
that it is not a part of his trade to repurchase horses, or to 
buy them at all after they have been in and about London. 
We will suppose, by way of one particular case, that the 
purchaser of the horse I have been lately alluding to, with- 
out having any fault to find with the animal. Avho, on the 
contrary, we will suppose has turned out to be all he anti- 
cipated or wished, still for some reason wishes to dispose 
of him. The first thing he probably does is to go to the 
dealer from whom he purchased him., and, perhaps natu- 
rally enough, expects he will be disposed to bu}^ him. 
Now I must first apprize my reader, that a dealer would at 
any moment just as soon see that gentleman who is repre- 
sented as wearing those pleasing appendages of horns and 
hoofs enter his yard, as a horse he has sold, when he re- 
turns there for the purpose of being sold to him, particu- 
larly a horse of the value of the one described. He knows 
he cannot in repurchasing do justice to himself, and at the 
same time give satisfaction to his customer; consequently, 
to avoid, if possible, giving any offence, or losing his 
money, he begins (and perhaps with truth) by declaring 
that his stables are quite full ; that he has really more 
horses on his hands than he knows what to do with; that 
the season for harness-horses is nearly gone by: that lie is 



"folly as it flies." 1S7 

selling off his own horses of this sort to make room for 
liunters, which are the only horses he intends buying 
till the spring; that in the sprino; he would be happy 
to buy a dozen such as the one offered, but that now he 
should have to keep the horse and lay out of his money 
for at least seven months before he could think of even 
offering him for sale." Now all this is more or less true, 
though the whole is set down as mere excuses on the part 
of the dealer; and they are most unquestionably brought 
forward to avoid entering on the proposed treaty; and it 
finally ends in his giving what is really the best and most 
honest advice under exi.sting circumstances, namely, that 
the horse should be turned out for the winter, in which 
case he would again come out a splendid horse for the pur- 
pose for which he was at first purchased. This advice is, 
however, almost certain not to be attended to. The real 
fact is, his owner, as a man of fashion and fortune, was de- 
termined to have one of the finest horses in London for his 
cab: he bought him; his friends had all seen and admired 
him; the novelty of the thing was over: and a new to}^ is 
wanted, for as toys such horses must be estimated. The 
owner was determined to have a wiiistle for his amuse- 
ment; he bought a highly ornamented one at the season 
when whistles were in demand; paid a proportionate price 
for it; has blown it till whistles are no longer in demand; 
and, forgetting it is but a whistle, is greatly surprised to 
find he is likely to pay rather dear for his music. 

Mais revenons h nos tnoiitons. We left the owner 
strenuously urging the dealer to purchase, and the latter as 
assiduously endeavouring to get out of the affair. Let us 
suppose that the owner loses if he sells the horse — on 
whom should the fault rest? Certainly not on the dealer. 
If a nobleman or gentleman is content to buy such a horse 
for his use as is driven by a hundred other noblemen and 
gentlemen, from a hundred to a hundred and fifty would 
have been probably the maximum price. Such a horse, 
making allowance for the time of year in which he might 
be offered for sale, would always command something close 
upon the same price: but if any person is determined to 
possess any rarity, no matter of what sort, and afterwards 
wishes to dispossess himself of it, he must either find a 



188 

purchaser among those who are on the look-out for rarities, 
or make up his mind to pay dearly for his temporary pos- 
session of it. The dealer naturally declines buying what 
he knows he must lose money by; and no blame can be 
attached to him for so doing. The owner forgets, in wish- 
ing to sell his horse, that he partly does so because people 
of fashion are leaving London, and that he is doing so him- 
self: he forgets, that instead of giving without a murmur, 
three hundred for this same horse, that he would not pur- 
chase him at the time he wants to sell him at even half the 
original price; he ought to consider that others would feel 
the same thing, and that the dealer, aware that such is the 
case, wisely declines burdening himself with an unsaleable 
commodity. In fact, the dealer should have been the last 
person instead of the first to have been applied to. An 
animal of this description once purchased should be sold 
only to and among a certain circle, till time and use have 
rendered him no longer a novelty, and bring him to the 
price of ordinary purchasers, among whom he would pro- 
bably be sold, re-sold, and sold again without much loss, if 
any, to his diflferent masters. 

I have dwelt thus long on this supposed case, to account 
for the great fluctuation often arising in the price of the 
same animal in a few months, which does not arise from 
any diminution in his intrinsic value, but depends on the 
situation in which he is placed from being offered to dif- 
ferent classes of persons, and to account for the fact that 
gentlemen do, as they represent, often purchase so dear, 
and ar« compelled to sell (comparatively) so cheap. But 
this is not confined to horses only: it will be found to bear 
equally on any other description of merchandise. The 
tradesman must have his profit. If you want to dispose of 
any purchased article, the least you can expect to lose is 
the tradesman's profit on it, and the quantum of loss to be 
sustained depends on the judgment employed in the pur- 
chase, and the description of article purchased. 

A friend of mine, a very good judge of horses in a gene- 
ral way, went to see a horse for a wager carry a dealer's 
boy over a monstrous high wall. I accompanied him, Was 
much astonished at the leap, and quite as much that so 
heavy-headed, ill-made a beast should be capable of the 



GETTING IN. 189 

feat. My friend was so infatuated by the performance, 
that nothing I could say prevented his buying the brute at 
a hundred and fifty guineas; and if he intended to keep him 
to do nothing but jump a brick-wall for the entertainment 
of his friends, he was worth the money; but for any other 
earthly purpose, he was not worth twenty pounds, as noth- 
ing else could he do with satisfaction to any one who rode 
him. I met my friend a few weeks afterwards riding the 
beast, and expressed my surprise at his so doing; but he 
made a very sensible reply, which silenced me at once: 
"My dear fellow, 1 am not a very ricli man: I have found 
him quite as bad as you told me I should, but I cannot 
afford to lose a hundred guineas, which I must do at the 
least if I determine at once to sell him : so I ride the wretch 
till I can find as great a fool as myself to buy him." For- 
tunately he hunted about till he did find the fool he want- 
ed, and got off with no farther loss than the keep of the 
animal for a few months. 

Having mentioned the folly of my friend, and the risk 
he ran of losing a considerable sum by pleasing his fancy, 
it is but fair I should mention an instance of my own, who, 
being some years his senior, ought to have known better. 
I went to see a stud of horses for sale at TattersalPs; I per- 
ceived that one horse among the stud seemed to attract 
very great attention, and this I thought was easily account- 
ed for from his being one of the finest horses I think I ever 
saw. But I found another cause for this general attraction, 
when I heard he was not only beyond any competition the 
widest jumper in the stud, but known to be the widest 
brook or drain-jumper in Lincolnshire, where he had been 
hunted. He was put up with the rest, and I bought him 
at a hundred guineas. He was no sooner knocked down 
to me than 1 felt I had done wrong. Several others of the 
same stud were sold at far higher prices, not one of which 
could any way be compared to him as to looks, size, or 
breeding: in short, I felt certain he was too cheap to be 
good. A couple of guineas to the head-groom produced 
no explanation but that he was a very good horse, the 
fastest in the stud, and the biggest jumper in Lincolnshire. 
I hunted him ; found him fast enough to go at his ease up 
to any hounds with any scent; nothing too big for him to 



190 GETTING OUT. 

take in his stride, and a mistake seemed Impossible, so it 
was at any tiling he cliose to try: but he seemed to think 
it quite beneath his dignity to jump at any ordinary fence; 
and 1 should say, during three times 1 rode him with 
hounds, he was on his nose with me twenty times. He 
had another pleasing propensity: if there were twenty 
little water-drains in the field, I would back him to put his 
foot into every one of them. I was lucky enough, how- 
ever, to find a farmer who piqued himself on being the 
boldest rider in the country where I was hunting, and had 
pn more than one occasion pounded the whole Field. It 
struck me the widest jumper in all Lincolnshire and my 
dauntless friend the farmer would be well matched: it 
ended in my allowing him to try "Lincoln'^ at a brook 
that had been considered in the hunt as impossible without 
a boat or taking a cold bath. The price was agreed upon 
if the horse did it: he took it and to spare. I drew 50/., 
taking in exchange decidedly one of the cleverest hunters 
I ever had, and eventually sold him at a hundred and fifty 
when fourteen years old. 

From these two little anecdotes it will be seen how 
much the prices of horses depend on circumstances. Had 
my friend not had patience to wait for the right customer, 
he would probably have lost a hundred by the wall jump- 
er: had I attempted to sell my Lincolnshire bargain in his 
own country, fifty would have been his estimated price, 
though very fast, very good, singularly handsome, and in 
some respects no doubt an animal of astonishing powers. 

I have said that the amount of loss to be expected by a 
purchaser on selling the article purchased depends in a 
great measure on the article itself. The facility or diffi- 
culty of disposing of most articles chiefly depends upon the 
utility and general demand for the article in question. If 
it be one in general demand, it is usuallj^ to be got rid of 
at little more loss than the tradesman's profit, provided it 
has not been used so as to prevent it being again sold as 
new; if, on the contrar}-, it is an article of taste or veriu, 
it has probably been bought at a fancy price; and should 
there be a necessity of selling this, excepting among the 
cognoscenti, the loss on the purchase must be necessarily 



THE GIVE-AND-TAKE TLA F E. 191 

great: no matter whether a bronze horse or a live one, the 
principle applies the same. As for example: — 

Two ladies go to the same silversmith's — say Storr and 
Mortimer — as a house of undoubted respectability. Mrs; 
A. orders dinner-forks, Spoons, and ladles, and dessert to 
correspond in proper proportions, silver bread-basket, and 
a waiter or two, the amount of which adds up to 200/.: 
Mrs. B. orders an epergne of beautiful workmanship, which 
comes to the same sum. The forks and spoons of course 
elicit no remarks from Mrs A.'s friends, being articles of 
daily use and regarded as common necessaries; while, on 
the contrary, Mrs. B.'s epergne is pronounced quite new, 
recherche^ and in accordance with her general good taste 
and judgment — (Remember, reader, the three-hundred- 
g'iinea cab-horse vvas admired just as much.) Now w€^ 
will suppose the two ladies, after a time, wish to exchange 
their different purchases for other articles of a newer or a 
different pattern: mark the results. Mrs. A.'s articles cost 
her about Is. Gel. per ounce, and in round numbers we will 
say they weighed 550 ounces: in exchanging them she 
would probably lose 2*. an ounce, about in money 55/. 
Mrs. li.'s beautiful epergne, which perhaps weighed 100 
ounces, is not an object of comm^on demand like spoons 
and forks; therefore, had it weiglied the same, would not 
be worth as much: but it was in no way sold by weight, 
and all its beautiful and elaborate workmanship tells for 
nothing; so this article loses, first at least 12/. on its weight 
of 100 ounces, and the actual value of it as old silver is 
about 25/. Assuredly this is really worse than horse-deal- 
ing, and the loss arises from precisely the same cause. 
300/. vvas too much to give to please the fancy for the mo- 
ment in the cab-horse, and 200/. too much for the epergneV 
Neither the dealer nor Storr and Mortimer were to blame; 

The dealer often sells horses within a few days after he 
has purchased; but, on the other hand, he keeps some many 
weeks, and even months, before he finds a customer for 
them, notwithstanding he has used all his ingenuity, indus- 
try, and patience to dispose of them: yet the private indi- 
vidual is quite surprised and dissatisfied, if, when tired of 
his purchase, he cannot in a few days get him off his hands 
without considerable loss. The dealer had patience to wait 



192 "the varlet's a tall man 'fore heaven. '^ 

many weeks before he could get his price, notwithstanding 
his extensive connexion and knowledge of his trade: the 
least then the gentleman can do is to use the same patience^ 
take the same time, and adopt the same means in endea- 
vouring to find a purchaser. This, however, he will not 
do, nor could he if he would: he must therefore make a 
severe sacrifice, unless he is fortunate enough to find the 
same kind of person my friend was for many months in 
search of when wishing to sell the horse of brick-wall no- 
toriety. After all, however, is said, and the sacrifice made, 
there is no great cause of complaint, provided he has been 
gi-atified by the temporary possession of what he only 
bought for temporary gratification. He might with as 
much reason complain, after eating a pine that cost him 
14*. It is true a pear would have slaked his thirst just as 
well, but he did not think so: at the time, the pine he fan- 
cied, and the pine he would have; the pear was too com- 
mon for his aristocratic mouth, though he might, like My 
Lord riuntingtower, have eaten a dozen of the latter for 
half the price of the former. There is a great satisfaction 
in serving such customers, and it is really cruel in them to 
damp that satisfaction by even hinting at the price they 
have paid. 

1 have often lamented when a boy that the knife I had 
bought never, after three days, looked the same as it ap- 
peared in the cutler's shop: people will generally find this 
hold equally with a horse bought out of a dealer's hands: 
he there looks as he probably will never look again while 
in their possession; at least, this is the case with the gene- 
rality of horses. They there see a horse brought to the 
highest state of perfection in point of appearance that hu- 
man ingenuity can effect, or to which he is capable of be- 
ing brought: the stable he stands in is so constructed as to 
set him off to the best advantage; even his quarter-cloth is 
put on to show his shape with the most efiect; his head- 
collar is made so as to give a light and pleasing appearance 
to his head; not a hair in his tail or mane is permitted to 
lie the wrong way; his very shoes are shaped to give his 
foot the very best form; when brought out, he is not per- 
mitted to stand for a moment, in a disadvantageous posi- 
tion. If he is a fine horse, in order to show how little is 



BYE PLAY. 193 

required to show him off, you may hear the dealer say to 
his man, "Let him stand where he likes, Jem; it don't 
matter how he stands," laying a strong emphasis on the 
word he; but depend upon it the dealer knows perfectly well 
when he says this that he is standing on one of the mofet 
advantageous spots in the yard; and not taking him to the 
general show-place has its effect on the purchaser's mind: 
it does not look dealer-like, and has an air of carelessness 
about it, as much as to say, you may buy him or not as 
you like. We will suppose the customer wishes to ride 
the horse himself on trial: a private servant would proba- 
bly call for a saddle, and put it on the horse's back as he • 
stands: the dealer's man knows his business better; he 
knows that horses never look to advantage during the 
operation of being saddled, but on the contrary set up their 
backs, swell against the girths, and put themselves in un- 
seemly positions. To avoid all this, the horse is taken 
into the stable, and there saddled, care of course being 
taken that the saddle is put on so as to set his shoulder off 
to the best advantage. While the ceremony of combing 
and water-brushing his mane and tail is gone through, he 
has had time to set down his back, and comes out looking 
like himself and "all right.'' We will now suppose he 
has been ridden, brought back, and approved of: he is then 
not allowed to stand one minute, but is taken at once into 
the stable — for this reason, he has been seen and ridden, 
and has given satisfaction, and he may therefore be consi- 
dered sold. No advantage could be gained by his being 
farther inspected; therefore, while all is well, and the cus- 
tomer favourably impressed with his merits, he is takert 
away, lest by any possibility he may do something to of-^ 
fend, or look to less advantage than he has hitherto done. 
Now the private individual knows irothing about the ne- 
cessity of attending to all these minuti^: it heVer struck 
him they were attended to, because it wds all done as a 
matter of course and habit, consequently there was nothing 
particular in the conduct of the dealer or his man. No 
orders wxre given; but it was done: and by this kind of 
apparently simple routine many a customer is done also — 
I should on second thought rather say induced to buy, for 
in all this really nothing in any way unfair has been prac- 
17 



194 "'tis strange. *tis passing strange,"^ 



tised. The dealer has, like any other tradesman, set hFs; 
good's off to^ the best advantage, and his man only done his 
part to the same purpose. The man. who* keeps a muslin 
and lace sliop parades his goods, and his Hyperion-curled 
assistant shows his lace over his hand. I allow this to be 
ail fair, stud the dealer in- horses and the dealer in lace are 
equally honest. The twa subordinates are also equally ho- 
rvest, though not eq<ually respectable, for I never can hold 
that man in- respect that does wh&t is not the province ©f a? 
man to do>. Thje dealer's man does what no woman could 
do; the other does what only a woman ought to do. 

But to return to> the horse that has been shown, seen^ 
ridden, approved of, and purchased. A few da3'S after 
these events, the owner wishes to show his purchase to a 
friend, and recollecti^ng the imposing appearance of the 
nag in the dealer's yard, he naturally expects he will look 
the same now, and strike his friend with the same admi- 
ration the owner felt on seeing him. Greatly, however, 
to his surprise and dismay, he perceives him to cnt quite 
a different figure, barely looking the same animal. He 
cannot understand tliis: he sees that it is so, but why it is 
so he can in no way account for. Had he read the few 
hints 1 have given, merely as relating to a very few of 
the attentions paid to appearances when shown b}^ one 
who knows something of his business, he would not be 
quite so much in the dark: still, supposing him to make 
some use of those hints, he cannot nor ever will show the 
horse, or any horse, like the dealer. How should he? he 
was not bred to the trade. ' 

Reverting to the objection dealers have to purchase a 
horse they have sold, the reader must bear in mind my 
having before represented the passion most people have 
for horses quite fresh. Now this perfectly fresh look goes 
off in a horse much sooner than most persons suppose; and 
though, provided he has been only moderately worked for 
six months, he is intrinsicall}^ a far belter animal for use, 
and sometimes in-^proved to the eye of a judge from having 
lost some of his superfluous fat, this will not alter the case: 
he does not look so new (for new is not an inapprapriate 
term to be applied to a dealer's horse.) This newness 
doeSj and I suppose will continue to put a stamp of valu« 



ANALOGIES. 195 

on whatever is sought to be purchased by the generaVrty 
of mankind. To have the first of a thing seems the great 
desideratum, whether in a horse or any thing else. The 
dealer is aware of this infatuation en the part of hi-s custo- 
mers: he knows the horse i« a better and more useful ani- 
mal than when he sold him, but he knows his customers 
would not like him as well: he finds them horses; he is 
not bound to find them sense; and till he or something 
else does, the new horse wilJ be preferred. 

This predilection for very youn-g horse-s would almost 
lead to the belief that people imagine that in every five- 
year-old unused horse they have a right to expect a given 
quantum of work, as in every bottle of wine they have a 
given number of glasses full : now if there was any analogy 
between the certain quantum of work in the horse and the 
quantum of wine in a bottle, there can be no doubt but the 
predilection would be judicious. Tlie bottle from which 
two glasses have been taken is not worth as much by one 
sixth as the fresh bottle that contains twelve: so if we could 
be certain that in every five-year-old horse thoTe were 
twelve years of work, the horse that had been used two 
years would, like the bottle, be just one sixth diminished 
in value. But this is not the case: the same calculation in 
no way holds good between the two objects: but between 
a horse and a watch something like a simile may be brought 
to bear, as we naturally expect both to go; and so they 
both do more or less; some go very well, some moderately 
so, some very badly, while some, figuratively speaking, 
cannot go at all. The action of both depends beyond doubt 
in a general way on the scientific manner in which the 
working parts of each have been put together; and the du- 
ration of time that each will continue to go depends on the 
goodness of the material of which each has been made. If 
we go to a good watchmaker and pay him a good price, he 
can be almost certain in selling a watch that will go well, 
and continue to do so, from knowing th.e goodness of its 
materials, and the skill employed in putting them together. 
The manufacturer of any other article can be equally cer- 
tain of its relative goodness; but I know of no manufacturer 
of horses; and until one is found, though our eye can tell 
jjs the horse that goes well_, we must trust to chance as to 



196 GOING SOMEHOW. 

how long he will continue to go: the soundness of hig ma- 
terials can only be found out by trial; and yet such is the 
perversity or folly of men in general, that though some one 
has risked this trial, the horse none the worse for it (in- 
deed the better,) and proved to be likely to continue a good 
and useful servant, it is this very trial that will in nine 
eases out of ten depreciate him in the estimation of a pur- 
chaser. 

I think I can now bring the purchasing a horse and a 
watch in such close affinity as to bear precisely the same 
pn each. We will suppose a salesman (not a manufacturer) 
to have twenty new watches sent him for sale, all good- 
looking, but the maker unknown: in this case neither he 
por a purchaser can form any opinion of their goodness, 
nor have either the slightest means of judging of their re- 
lative soundness of material : all that a purchaser can do is 
to select the one that pleases his eye, and that he finds will 
^t all events go at present. We will say ten of these are 
^old, and at the end of the year, like horses, some have gone 
well during the whole time; others have continued to go 
for the same time, but badly ; some have gone for six months, 
and then could go no longer; while some did not go for a 
\yeek. Suppose the purchaser of one of the two or three 
that have gone well for the twelve months, and are still 
going on well, should he wish to sell his purchase, and the 
same salesman again undertakes the sale of it, we might 
naturally suppose that every person would take this proved 
good watch in preference to one of the new ones of whose 
goodness he must run all the risk. No doubt every man 
of sense would do so: but depend upon it, nine persons out 
of ten would prefer a new one, unless the other was to be 
sold at a greatly depreciated price: and even then most 
persons would still take the new one, and console them- 
selves with the idea and common opinion, " If I get a new 
thing 1 know the wear of it." Do they? If they do, they 
know more than any other person does: at least, it is so as 
far as regards horses. Now could any reasonable man ex- 
pect the salesman to take this watch upon his own hands? 
or if he did, must he not do so at a very low price indeed 
in comparison with its original one? The horse-dealer in 
taking back a horse is placed in the same predicament — in- 



TOYS FOR GROWN CHILDREN. 197 

^eed in a worse, inasmuch as a watch is worn unseen by the 
public, and consequently has not been rendered common 
in its eyes; but the horse has. If we are oflered a second- 
hand watch, it is a thousand to one that we ever know its 
former possessor, or that any one will tell us that the watch 

belonged to Lord B ; but let his horse be offered for 

sale, and though my lord had only driven him twelve 
months, the salesman of him, be he who he may, will be 
told, " Why, that's Lord B.'s old cab-horse.^' Any thing 
that has become blaze in London has also become valueless, 
or at least to a great degree it has become so. 

A young friend of mine, while on the peninsula, bought 
a beautiful and very English-looking milk-white horse, and 
was fortunate enough shortly afterwards to meet with an 
exact match for him. Their manes and tails were really 
magnificent; but he took it into his head to dye them a 
very pretty light chestnut, with rather a pinkish hue. A 
lady of very high native rank there fell in love with these 
pink-tailed horses, and he sold them to her at an enormous 
sum. He certainly sold them as they were, nor did he 
say the tails were not dyed, but he took very good care 
not to say that they were; in fact, the question was never 
asked: if it had, I am quite sure he would at once have 
said that they were. Some time after the hair began to 
grow, and of course the tails and manes began to put on a 
suspicious appearance, but luckily, just in the nick of time, 
his regiment was ordered home. Of course, the manes and 
tails after a time came to their own much more becoming 
colour; they were, after all, a magnificent pair of horses, 
and the lady had no reason to complain of any thing but 
the price. 

Supposing such a pair of horses, with really pinkish- 
chestnut manes and tails, fell into Anderson's hands; his 
door in Piccadilly would be besieged by the elife of the 
beau monde; and whether he chose to ask two or six hun- 
dred for the pair would matter little. Many, it is true, 
would not buy them at all, but those who were so inclined 
would give any thing he chose to ask; and probably, before 
they had been driven a week, some one would tempt the 
owner by the offer of a couple of hundred more to induce 
him to sell them. Let these be driven till the end of the 

17* 



198 SADDLED WITH A BARGAIN. 

season— they would have been seen by every one, their 
novelty would have worn off; and novelty was their re- 
commendation: the owner would probably have become 
tired of them, and would heartily wish their tails h^d also 
baen dyed. When he purchased them, perhaps not more 
than one person in five thousand would have liked them ; 
but now he finds no one will have them at all. Second- 
hand things of any description sell badly enough; but if I 
was to rack my brains for a month to hit upon any thing 
second-hand the most difficult of all others to get rid of, I 
should certainly say a pair of milk-white horses with pink- 
ish-chestnut manes and tails. Anderson would probably 
recollect them with many pleasurable feelings: I should 
imagine he would be the only one who would. 

In nearly the commencement of these hints I stated my 
firm conviction that no gentleman could make money by 
horses as a tradesman. 1 farther, in no measured terms,' 
gave my opinion of those who use their position in society 
as a cloak to their being in fact horse-dealers. This can 
only last for a time: that is, till they are found out. I 
have also given it as my impression that a respectable 
dealer is the best source from which a gentleman can sup- 
ply himself with horses, and have at the same time allowed 
that purchasing in this way he will lose by his horses if he 
wishes to sell them. It might be remarked, from what I 
have said, that the only inference to be drawn is, that a 
gentleman must either be a rogue, or lose by all his horses. 
I do not quite mean this; but I am afraid it comes very 
near the truth. It must, however, be recollected, that I 
allude to gentlemen who are not in the sporting term 
" horse men," who know little about them, merely have 
them as necessary appendages to their position in life, and 
as objects of utility and luxury to which they are accus- 
tomed. Such men must undoubtedly expect to lose by 
their horses. Why should they not? They lose by their 
furniture, their clothes, their carriages, and indeed by 
every thing; yet they abuse the dealer if they lose by a 
horse. 

Having said that gentlemen in a general way must lose 
by horses, I vv^ill now endeavour to show that there are 
some gentlemen who not oqly do not lose, so far as price 



JUDGES, BUT NOT BIG WIGS. 199 

goes, but who really keep half a dozen or more horses at 
very little expense. Mind, I do not mean they make 
money by them; that is quite a different thing: but they 
get their show and amusement for a hundred or two a 
year, which costs others a thousand or much more. I'his 
can only be done by men who from practice and decided 
partiality to horses have acquired a quick eye, good taste, 
and perfect judgment in choosing their horses — a perfect 
knowledge of the best stable-management of them after- 
wards — and, finally, fine judgment, fine hands, a fine seat, 
and fine nerves in riding or driving them. This is only 
to be acquired by beginning early: riding must from in- 
fancy have been as natural to him as walking, or, with a 
few exceptions, he will never become a horseman. A tailor 
may begin at five-and-twenty to first get on a horse, and 
yet make a capital dragoon: he would nev^er, however, be 
made (as least not one man in a thousand would) a hunting 
rider. Look at the difference between the manner and 
seat of a man who began from childhood, and the school- 
taught adult; the first steps into his saddle without hesita- 
tion or preparation: the moment he is there, you see he is 
at home and in his element as much as a duck is the mo- 
ment she touches the water. The other prepares himself 
for the exploit; then prepares to mount; mounts; seats 
himself, prepares himself and horse to move; and when he 
i\oes move, you can see by his riding that it is an effort; 
and it always strikes me that a dragoon looks (though we 
know it is not so) as if he was afraid of his horse: he looks 
artificial; while the other and his horse look as if, like the 
Siamese twins, they had been born together. A man with 
these advantages can do a great deal with horses: he is not 
certainly a manufacturer of horses, but he is in a great mea- 
sure a manufacturer of hunters, hacks, harness-horses, &.c. 
He really buys the raw material, and makes it into what 
other people pay a high price for. He cannot perhaps aflford 
to pay three hundred for a horse fourteen or fifteen years old, 
because he is a perfect made hunter: he knows how to 
make a hunter, then why should he pay for one ready 
made? To him the making a horse is as much an amuse- 
ment as making a picture or a garden is to another: he 
really makes the horse valuable, and has a right to that 



200 THE TWO TEAMS. 

value when he sells him. His good judgment makes him 
select a young horse that hs sees ought to be first rate as 
a hunter:, he takes care to buy him at a price that will do 
no great harm supposing he finds he does not answer his 
•expectation as a hunter: his size, figure, looks, and action, 
will probably at all events command what he gave for him 
— say a hundred; so he is no great loser under any circum- 
stances; for if he, from some constitutional cause, is not 
good enough for a hunter, he makes him into a first-rate 
harness-horse: the one that does make a hunter shows him 
a great deal of amusement for a season or two, and then he 
is asked to take three or four hundred for him. Men of 
this known judgment never have occasion to offer their 
horses for sale: it is enough that he has carried Mr. 



a season or two, as it is quite well known he would not 
have ridden the same horse ten times if he was common- 
place. He has no objection to selling a horse to pay a 
hundred; it lessens his stable expenses: but he would not 
punish himself by riding a brute in order to make money. 
There is nothing in any shape derogatory to the character 
or conduct of a gentleman in what he does: he is a good 
judge, a good horseman, a good sportsman: all this tends 
to the results I have mentioned: he is, moreover, in all 
probability, a good fellow, or people would have nothing 
to do with him or his horses. Long may such men ride 
and prosper! I wish we had more of them. 

There are other men who are especially driving men: 
these can do the same thing by their nags, and perhaps 
drive their four-in-hand at as little expense as others do 
their cabs. A friend of mine, whose income never ex- 
ceeded 2000/. a year, always contrived to keep six, seven, 
or eight hunters during the season, and had his team during 
the summer; added to which his bachelor menage was in 
perfect good taste. He had one summer got together four 
very good goers, and few men could hold them together 
better than he could. Coming along the road from Ham- 
mersmith, he overtook a friend also driving his team, who 
piqued himself on having fast ones: they had a few mi- 
nutes' chat, when, to the latter gentleman's perfect asto- 
nishment, my friend went *nvay from him and the fast 
ones with perfect ease. They met an hour afterwards in 



BEAT WITH HIS OWN WEAPONS. 201 

the Park, and when they had come side by side, the same 
result took place. It ended in a deal, and they actually 
exchanged teams, harness and all, my friend drawing a 
hundred in the exchange. During the next few days the 
rivals did not meet again. My friend was driving his 
new barter, getting them properly bitted, and, in road lan- 
guage, pulling them together. The fact was, three of these 
horses were beyond comparison much faster than his for- 
mer team, but the fourth could neither step with nor go 
with the others. This horse he got rid of, (and more of 
him anon,) and put in one to the full as fast as the others: 
they were then one of the fastest teams in London, and 
he made them step toojether like soldiers, whereas before 
they only seemed to have been put together to be in each 
other's way. My friend now again appeared in the Park, 
and shortly after was joined by his friend and the noto- 
rious team; the same go-by was now given him that he 
had given a short time before, and doubtless his friend 
thought the hundred he had given for the exchange was 
well laid out: but miracles never cease: and who can con- 
trol his fate? My friend permitted him to get a few car- 
riage lengths in advance; then put on the steam, caught 
his friend, and passed at a good fifteen miles an hour. Had 
Tarn O'Shanter on the gray mare, Mazeppa on the wild 
horse, Byron's Giaour on his black steed, or Scott the jock 
mounted on the ghost of Pegasus, passed, he would have 
been surprised; but his surprise would have been tame in 
comparison with his'perfect astonishment at the matchless 
style of going, and the pace of his former bays. But so 
it was; he was beaten, and beaten hollow by his own horses! 
True, one had been changed; but this he did not know or 
perceive. The result ended in their again changing, and 
my friend again receiving a hundred for so doing. 

I said I would allude to the horse taken out of the team: 
he was a fair goer, but had not harness-action. My friend 
found this out in half an hour, and immediately drafted 
him: he rode him, put him into the hunters' stable, and he 
came out first-rate. Now, here was a young six-year-old 
horse being sacrificed, and spoiling his companions, from 
being put into his wrong place. So much for judgment, 
or rather the want of it! Judgment in horses certainly i? 



^202 A NOBLE FENCER. 

eot possessed by one man in a hundred who keeps and 
iises them, and yet scarcely one man in that hundred will 
^llow or believes he does not possess it. I doubt not 
many a young city gentleman, who daily drives his Stan- 
hope from Finsbury Square to his little secret establish- 
inent in the New Road, fancies he could drive a Dutchman 
or any other horse in a match as well as VVoodriffe, and 
that he could make him do it in the same time^ though 
iialf of these gentlemen want a hand for each rein, and a 
third for their whip, and then they would only be in the 
way of each other. Let the generality of persons see a 
horse or horses go well across ^ country or in harness, they 
•are very properly struck with admiration of their povvers; 
hut they seldom give half the credit they deserve to those 
who drive or ride them, whereas a much greater share of 
the merit of the performance belongs to them than people 
are apt to imagine; yet it would be difficult to persuade 
them that the same horses would not do the same thing in 
their hands. I was fool enough once to buy a reed of a 
fellow in the street, who certainly imitated all sorts of 
birds most beautifully. I thought what a deep hand I was 
when I insisted on having the identi<ial one he was using, 
^nd gave an a<iditional sixpence for it. I certainly pro- 
duced a noise something; between blowing down a key and 
a penny trumpet, but I never progressed a bit nearer the 
mellifluous notes of the nightingale, 

A nobleman, whose name it is unnecessary to mention, 
many years since was so pleased by an exhibition of Punch 
and Judy that he actually bought the stand. Punch, Judy, 
dog, devil, and all, and sent them to his country seat: he 
forgot, however, to buy the man I In something like his 
lordship's error would some men be who I have seen ride 
after (certainly not with) hounds, if, after seeing Tom 
Smith in his palmy days sail away on his best nag, they 
had bought him. There can be no doubt that every man 
who hunts or rides for his amusement has a right to ride 
as he pleases, and the sort of horse that best suits him. A 
perfect Leicestershire hunter will please all perfect Leices- 
tershire riders; but many men have very peculiar notions 
of the merits of hunters. 

J knew a noblenjan who hunted in Essex^ ^yhom np one 



ASTONISHING THE NATIVES. 203 

ever saw or suspected of riding over a common wattled; 
hurdle or a ditch as wide as a potato trench; yet he gave 
long prices for his horses, and had certainly a lot of the best 
leapers I ever saw — a qualification to him, odd as ft may 
appear, quite indispensable. The fact was, his lordship 
was a particular!}^ active man, and in his own person one 
of the best and most determined fencers in England: no- 
thing was too big or too awkward for him: he would jump, 
creep, or bore through or over any thing, and he and his 
horse w^ent as straight as birds. The way they did so was 
this: no man rode harder than he did, and that over any 
sort of gi^ound, for of this he had no fear; consequently he 
was ahvays the first, or among the first, up to every fence: 
when he came within five yards of it, he threw himself off 
his horse, who took it, and was trained to stop short on the 
other side: through or over went his lordship after him; 
got in his saddle as quick as Ducrow could have done, and 
was off' again without losing a second. The stiffest bull- 
finch would neither stop him nor his horse: through it they 
went, and as to water, he could jump as wide as any horse. 

1 have been accused by some of my friends of having 
advocated the cause of horse dealers too favourably; while 
others of these friends, though on most subjects men of li- 
beral sentiments, have anathematized me to my face because 
I have not, could not, nor will not unite with them in opi- 
nion that all horse-dealers are alike, and, being so, are en 
T?i(fsse a mass of rascality and extortion. 

The simile of a man being in the humoar of a bear with 
a sore head, if not a very refined or poetic, is at all events 
a very common one; but though many thus make use of 
Bruin to help them out with an idea, few perhaps have had 
the chance of seeing the gentleman situated as they describe. 
Now I have, and a menkey too; and can assure my readers 
that where the hurt is not of so serious a nature as to call 
forth compassion, the manner of treating it, and the pitiable 
look put on by these gentry, is the most ridiculous thing 
in nature. I make no doubt but a man who has ever been 
embraced by a bear cannot conceive that he can handle 
any thing with gentleness; but let them see him sitting 
down and rubbing his hurt head, they will find he does it 
with considerably more gentleness than many a hired nuKse 



204 THEY MUST BEAR IT. 

or maii}^ of those young gentlemen who get hospital pa- 
tients under their hands, when in a hurry to get awa}^ to 
put on a proper tie and add the proper quantum of Row- 
land's Macassar for a Regent-Street strut. 

Some of my friends, from their transactions with some 
dealers, are very much in the situation of Bruin: they have 
been hit hard, and the place is still tender: they are still 
rubbing their heads, and are driven half mad, when I only 
laugh at their bruises. Give Bruin the stick that hurt himy 
you would see what a mauling he would give it; and thus 
some of my good friends, having been hit by horse- dealerSjr 
want me to give them a mauling also. This (as far as my 
abilities would permit) I would be as willing as any man 
alive to do when and where I thought they deserved it;- 
but it is not enough for me that my friend's head is tender,* 
when perhaps the hit arose from his own folly. In this 
case, I can only recommend him to do as Bruin does, ten- 
derly and patiently to rub on till he cwrcs it; but I would 
advise him to do what the other will do witliowt advice, 
namely, not voluntarily to put himself in the way of get- 
ting hit again. I am compelled to say this has not been 
the conduct of some of my friends; and the consequence 
has been, they got a fresh shinner on the old grievance. 
When this is the case, they have doubly deserved it, and 
must rub and growl on: it will perhaps keep them out of 
farther mischief. 

I can bring forward a very beautiful illustration of the 
folly of a want of caution in the first place, and the still 
greater folly of expecting to come off scathless in returning 
to the origin of our first injury. When I was a boy, and 
about as mischievous as most young gentlemen are, we had 
among other quadrupeds an immense and most voracious 
sow. This said sow I used frequently to mount, and on 
these occasions she would sometimes turn sulky, stand still, 
and attempt to catch hold of my toes; but when she did 
go, she went like a devil, and tried to get rid of me, which 
sooner or later slie invariably did; for Allen M'Donough 
could not have kept on, so no impeachment on my sow- 
manship. This was capital fun; perhaps it taught me not 
afterwards to mind a fall from a horse: but one unfortunate 
day, perhaps the pace had been too good, sowcy shut vp^ 



RATHER TOO WARM. 205 

turned round and round till she got me off, and was making 
a charge at me: however I escaped her; and finding her 
dislike to steeple-chasing was likely to end in something 
to my serious disadvantage, I never mounted her again. 1 
was beat; had sense enough to know it, and to keep out of 
harm's way. Thus far I took a hint, as I advise my 
friends to do; but I will now show where piggy did not^ 
and suffered from it. I have said that Madame Sow was 
voracious, and so she was; for no sooner was her meal in 
the trough than in went her long snout, routing to the bot- 
tom and from end to end; and instead of leaving the tid- 
bits with maternal affection to her numerous and interest- 
ing family, up she gobbled all, and in truth in one instance 
gobbled up family and all. Now as my mamma never did 
any thing of this kind, my feelings of respect and duty sa* 
tished me that Madame Sow's general conduct must be 
very hoggish indeed, and I resolved to punish her. I bad 
not forgotten at the same time her obstinacy as to steeple- 
chasing. The next time she was fed, I, in conjunction 
with the boy who fed her, made her mess so hot as to be 
one of the most uncomfortable berths in the world for a 
nose. Shutting up the misses and masters piggies, we let 
the old gentlewoman out: at it she came, and in went her 
Rose to the very bottom ; but out it came quick as a cork 
from a champagne bottle, accompanied, in force, loudness, 
and harmony, by a note equalled hut not excelled by the 
pleasing intimation we hear from the steam-pipe of the ap- 
proach of a locomotive. Round and round the yard she 
went (how I longed to be on her) till the air had cooled 
her proboscis. Forgetful of former hurts, in delight at the 
smoking savoury viands, in went the snout again with tlie 
same results. A third time settled the business: she wisely 
gave it up for a time, but eventually got her supper with 
the loss of the skin off her nose. This was coming off 
better than some people, who lose the skin, and do not get 
what they want at last. Let me then advise my friends 
in search of horses never to poke their nose, whether bot- 
tle, Grecian, snub, or Roman, into suspicious places, or 
trust it with suspicious men; and above all, if they have 
got one scald, never to risk another in the same quarter, 
18 



306 INDIA-RUBBER CONSCIENCES. 

notwithstanding Mr. Hollovvay's assurance that one pot 
of his ointment effects a certain cure in all cases. 

By these very homely similes, anecdotes, and equally 
homely advice, I have hinted, that, although 1 do not con- 
demn dealers in horses to lasting infamy as a body, I do 
consider it just possible that a man may get into bad hands; 
and 1 intend farther to show that he may get into the 
hands of as great a set of scoundrels, composing a part 
(and a pretty considerable part) of that body as ever dis- 
graced humanity: but when he does so, it is nineteen cases 
out of twenty his own fault arising either from the vain 
hope of getting a bargain, or from conceit in fancying 
himself a proficient in matters that (he finds to his cost) 
he really knows little or nothing about. 

If any one conclude&, from what I have at any time 
written on the subject, that I either consider or have in- 
tended to represent horse-dealers as men in whom we may 
place perfect confidence, the fault has been in my mode of 
expressing myself, not in my hitention. I consider them 
m no such light. Confidence to a certain degree may be 
reposed in certain dealers in horses; so it may in certain 
dealers in wine, and in certain (and that certain comprises 
a very very few) dealers in pictures; but if a man who i» 
not a judge will go to either and make his own purchases^ 
he will to a certainty be more or less taken in; that is, he; 
will not get the best value for his money given him. li 
first-rate men in their way, they will not venture to give* 
you an absolutely unsound or decidedly vicious horse in 
face of their warranty to the contrary; decidedly pricked 
wine for sound; or a known copy for a genuine GlaudCj. 
Titian, or Domenichino; but you will be all but certain to- 
get as inferior an article of these several commodities as' 
their risk of character will permit them to put iato your 
hands at the price given. They are tradesmen: their ob- 
ject is to make money; and while they do not do any 
thing absolutely dishonesfc, their consciences and ideas are- 
like those of many attorneys, v^'ho consider nothing disho- 
nourable that is not contrary to lavT. 

I have said that I believed a respectable horse-dealer 
was in the end, perhaps, all things consideredy the best, 
mode by which a man of fortune could supply himself 



A MODEL HORSE-DEALER. 207 

with horses, and the cheapest — I should rather have said 
the least dear. This I only mean when put in competi- 
tion with (in the generality of cases) breeding, or person- 
ally attending fairs, and supposing him not to be a judge 
of horses; but I apprize him that what he calls "taken in'' 
he will be, go where he will; that is, he will on an average 
lose by every horse he buys. 1 remember I have men- 
tioned the Elmores and Andersons as dealers. I beg, 
however, it may be understood that I merely did so as 
men whose names are well known and as among the lead- 
ing men in their trade; by no means meaning to infer that 
there are not many entitled to quite as much confidence, 
and who are in every sense of the word quite as respecta- 
ble men: in fact, neither with Messrs. Elmore nor Ander- 
son have I ever had one single transaction in my life, 
either in buying or selling. With the late Mr. George 
Elmore I have, and can only say, that the man who pos- 
sesses the straight-forward honourable way of doing busi- 
ness, the courteous and I may say gentleman-like manners 
and address of him, is a rara avis of a horse-dealer. I 
have no doubt his conduct is hereditary, but, if not, I could 
not give kinder advice than recommending others to imi- 
tate their predecessor. 

To show the estimation in which I hold the words or 
assurances of dealers in any thing (consequently of horse- 
dealers,) I never suffer myself to be guided by one word 
they say. I do not tell them to hold their tongues; first, 
because it would be rude and offensive to do so; and, se- 
condly, because they have a right to talk; but with me they 
talk to the winds. AH traders will say what they think 
most likely to recommend their goods, truth or not truth: 
my questions to a dealer about his horse are very few, and 
for this reason: if answering truly would deteriorate the 
horse in my estimation, I should possibly not be told the 
truth; consequently I am probably only asking for a false- 
hood; and if the truth would be a recommendation, and I 
should therefore be told it, I should then be quite uncer- 
tain whether to believe it or not. If a man is not a judge 
of a horse, he has no business going personally to dealers 
in horses: if he is not a judge of a picture, he has no busi- 
ness to go to a picture dealer: he may purchase of both, 



20S I HEAR YOU, SIR. 

but in the name of common sense let him send or take 
some one to buy for him who is a judtre of what is wanted: 
and ht must keep his eyes open; he will want both of them 
in buying from the most honest trader. 

If 1 want a horse for myself or friends, and go to a 
dealer's yard, I first state what sort of horse I want, and 
like, and for what purpose I want him. This looks like 
business, looks as if I knew what I do want [Mem, many 
people do not.) and shows I do not wish to take or give 
unnecessary trouble. It certainly by no means ensures my 
being shown what will suit me; but it ensures my being 
shown what comes the nearest to it of such as the dealer 
has. If I do not like his appearance or action, three 
minutes settles that: I civilly thank him for the sight of his 
horse, and give no farther trouble. If I do like him, I 
merely ask, '^Do you warrant him sound and free from 
vice.''" If he does, I ask his price: if a reasonable one, I 
try him: if more is asked than I choose to give, I never 
ride or drive a horse till I get him to or very nearly to the 
price I make up my mind to give. I never try a horse 
till I have determined to buy him. Never sufler myself 
to be talked into putting up with what I see and know to be 
an objection, nor ever make one without good reason. No 
respectable dealer is ever angry at your objecting to what 
he knows to be objectionable: on the contrary, he respects 
your judgment, however much he may regret his not having 
found a flat. If the dealer says he cannot warrant the horse 
because he has a corn, or thrush, or some such trivial matter, 
let no man who is not conversant with such matters touch 
him: he would probably get a decided screw. Personally 
I should not reject such a horse if I liked him in other re- 
spects, as I well know and every horseman knows, hun- 
dreds of horses could not be passed as sound by a veterinary 
surgeon that are just as good or nearly so to any one (but 
a respectable dealer) as if they were. Under these circum- 
stances I take the ipse dixit of no man. I might be told 
he ^-had a slight jack," was "a little rough in both hocks," 
but ^'it was natural;" had a "splint," but "it was only on 
the bone, and did not touch the sinew;" or many other 
thingsof this sort. I listen to all this: but I do not allow my 
attention to h^ fixed on a grievance that is perhaps in point 



A DIG. 209 

of fact no grievance at all. The "slight jack," or the "little 
roughness on both hocks," would certainly induce me to 
see that there was not one or a couple of whacking spavins: 
if I found there was, of course that would end tlie business; 
but if I found that in this particular there was not much the 
matter, or possibly nothing at all the matter, all the dealer 
could say to persuade me that t/iis was the grievance would 
have no more effect on me, than, if I saw there was a fail- 
ing, all he could say would have to persuade me there was 
not. 1 might perhaps rather surprise a dealer who had 
pointed out to me a splint as a cause of unsoundness in a 
horse by not minutely examining the diseased part, but by 
immediately very minutely examining his eyes, watching 
his flanks, or catching hold of his head, and with my stick 
in terror em or reality, ascertaining, whether, instead of 
his being in one respect an imperfect horse, he is not in 
another a very perfect hull — a term not known to every 
one, for though they probably know the old adage, that 
though a mare is a horse, a horse is not a mare, they have 
yet to learn that, though a bull is not a horse, a horse is 
very frequently a bull. 

I do not mean to say any respectable dealer would be 
guilty of such tricks; his character would be too much at 
stake: but if, for instance, a man not a judge went to a 
dealer in horses, or any thing else, and it was known he 
was going abroad, or where his good or bad word could 
have no effect, if in making a purchase he did not get, in 
horse-dealer's phrase, a dig, I am a bad prophet. 

Nothing can be more absurd, nor is there any thing more 
annoying to a dealer, than for a man who is not a judge of 
horses himself to take a man with him to look at a horse 
or horses who fancies himself one without being so. Such 
a man does not know enough to see the merits of a horse, 
but is sure (as he thinks to show his judgment) to find 
fault. With such a companion, a man may look at a hun- 
dred horses without buying one: this soi-dlsant judge 
thinks, by finding fault, he shows how wide-awake he is: 
the result in nine cases out of ten is, he rejects horses that 
would suit his friend's purpose, and buys some v/retch at 
last. 

Now, on the contrarv, if the purchaser is n man that a 
IS* 



210 BUYING AND SELLING ARE TWO THINGS. 

dealer knows it is his interest to use well, be in no shape 
objects to bis bringing a sensible, liberal, and thorough 
good judge with him: he will linow that the merits of his 
horses will be properly appreciated, their imperfections 
estimated by a proper scale; and if they are adapted to the 
purpose they are wanted for, they will be recommended to 
be purchased. It must, however, be understood, that in 
taking such a judge with you, what and all as a purchaser 
you have a right to expect is this: you will most probably 
get a sound horse, and one that is likely to answer your 
purpose. Price is another thing; and should you not find 
this horse what you want, you must not expect your friend 
to be able to get you a hundred for him, though he recom- 
mended you to give that sum: he only did so from knowr 
ing the horse was as well worth a hundred as any one you 
could get from a dealer's stable. But, as I have before 
said, if you buy of a dealer, and then want to sell, lose you 
must, and lose you will, go to what dealer you m.ay, unless 
you are yourself a dealer, not because the dealer is unprin^ 
cipled as a man, but because he is a dealer and you are 
not. 

I may be asked if it is iinpossib/e for a man to buy of a 
dealer without losing money by his purchase? Certainly 
not. If a man has judgment enough, as I have before ex- 
pressed it, to buy the raw material of a dealer, and then 
by his fine riding or driving and stable management to 
manufacture this raw material into a superior article, then 
he will not lose, and may probably make money; but if a 
man merely buys an article or a horse, and wants to sell 
that article or horse again, if no better than when he bought 
the article or horse, lose he must, even supposing he was 
not imposed upon in his purchase. Men who are really 
workmen as riders or drivers buy of dealers, because they 
know that by giving (we will say) their 100/. for a horse, 
they can make him worth twice that sum. Such men, if 
wanting a hunter, need not go to Tom Smart to buy one; 
and for this reason: he buys made-hunters, gives an unli- 
mited price for them: these men can make their own 
hunters, so are bad customers to Tom: but a man who is 
not a bond fide workman cannot do better than go to liim; 
he will give him a horse made to his hands: the onh- con- 



A SMART DEALER. 211 

sequence will be, he has given 150/., and will charge them 
on an average perhaps 50/. for his judgment in buying; 
and this 50/. a man has a right to pay if he wishes to be 
well carried, and has not judgment of his own. Pay Tom 
a good price, I will answer for it lie gives you a good 
hunter, though he is a dealer, and was not always what 
he is now: no man knows a hunter better than Smart; and 
no man (mind me, as a dealer) will deal more liberally 
with him. I never bought a horse of him in my life, nor 
ever shall: I cannot afford it. I have sold horses to him, 
and a good buyer he is. So much for Tom Smart, the 
prince of dealers in hunters. 

I might be asked by any one willing to pay a good price, 
whether, if he went to a dealer and said he wanted a very 
fine pair of carriage horses, and was willing to give a price 
equal to their merits, he should not get such? I have no 
hesitation in saying, that if he went to a respectable man 
he would get a pair of fine sound horses. I might then be 
Risked, if he went and said he wanted as fine a pair of 
horses as any man in London had, and would give as good 
g price for them, whether he would get them? I would 
at once answer him (if he was not a judge,) certainly not. 
The reply might naturally be, that his money was worth 
-^s much as any other man's: certainly it would be, but hia 
Judgment would not; consequently, though the dealer 
Vould show him and sell him a fine pair of horses, he 
would not give him as fine a pair of horses as any man in 
London had (supposing the dealer to possess such:) and 
why? because the dealer would know he had shown him 
a pair quite good enough to answer the purpose he wanted 
them for: a pair of more merit would not be properly ap- 
preciated by such a customer, and in fact would be thrown 
away upon him: but above all, as a tradesman, the dealer 
would never give a superior article where an inferior one 
is to be got rid of. 

I think I hear a tradesman, or dealer, or merchant, 
whichever they please to call themselves, in other articles, 
say, " This may be all very well in a horse-dealer, but we 
should not consider it honourable in our business." I 
liear you, gentlemen. I have not said it is honourable 
in the horse-dealer, You say, you should not do so \x\ 



212 BIRDS OF A FEATHER. 

your business: though not a very polite man, I am too 
polite to contradict you: but, be your business what it may, 
if I want any article in which you deal, and am not a judge 
of it myself, you will, in accordance with the liberal senti- 
ments you profess, excuse me if I bring some one with me 
who is, before I buy of you, though i know that " Brutus 
is an honourable man." 

I may now be asked, how the dealer should know that 
his customer is not a judge of horses? To this I make 
answer, that most men who are, and are men who will 
give long prices, are perfectly well-known to all first-rate 
dealers; consequently, if a strano-er enters the yard, they 
know he is not one of them at all events. But it may be 
said he may still be a good judge: if he is, the dealer will, 
in nine cases out of ten, detect him at once. There is a 
kind of free-masonry among horsemen, as among gentle- 
men, that enables both to iind a kindred spirit in a very 
short time. Let fifty passengers embark in one of our 
steamers for only a twenty-four hours' voyage, before one 
quarter of that time has elapsed it will be found that those? 
who are gentlemen have found each other out, and natu-; 
rally congregate and enter into conversation with each 
other. Having done this, if there are three or four sport- 
ing men on board, my life on it they also single out them- 
selves. Whatever may be a man's favourite pursuit, some 
observation is sure shortly to detect it. Thus, let two men 
enter a dealer's yard, the one a horseman the other not, 
two or three observations made by each, perhaps the very 
first made, will show which is which. From this the 
dealer takes his cue, and acts accordingly. Nor indeed is 
any verbal observation necessary. Let the two only walk 
round the stables: the man who is a judge will stop oppo- 
site and look at only such horses as are of a good sort for 
some purpose; the other will either indiscriminately look 
at all, good or bad, or very probably be taken by the ap- 
pearance of such nags as the other never gave a second 
look at. Now, though, while this is going on, people may' 
not keep an eye on the dealer, he is keeping his on them, 
and a watchful one too. This is part of his business. If he 
is a man au fait de son metier, it will be observed, th:it, 
however much a dealer may subsequently talk, he seldom 



FINDING OUT A CUSTOMER. 213 

says much on a stranger first going iiito his stable. He 
probably touches his hat, civilly opens his doors (if shut,) 
and follows him, watching, as I have said, every cast of 
the eye and act of his customer: in short, he feels his man 
before he ventures to make an observation liimself: for if, 
for instance, he was to point out some flashy nondescript 
spider-legged wretch to a judge, he would turn round and 
give him a look, as much as to say " You are either a rogue 
or take me for a fool;" neither of which conclusions it is 
the dealer's interest his customer should draw. On the other 
hand, if he was to particularize a really good sort of horse, 
without such an imposing appearance in the stable as his 
showy neighbour,the non-judge would draw the same conclu- 
sion as the other. So, in either case, the dealer would get into 
a scrape, and for this reason he wisely holds his tongue till 
he finds in what way he should employ it to advantage. If 
from the taciturnity or equivocal conduct of his customers 
the dealer should still have any doubts on his mind about 
them, let the two go into a horse's stall to look at him; 
the thing is settled; the mere manner of doing this decides 
it. The one, after looking scientifically at his horse, speaks 
to him, and then walks decisively at once up to his head, 
and keeps that wary look at his heels and eye as he ap- 
proaches him which experience has taught him is a neces- 
sary precaution. The very " wo-ho, horse," or " wo-ho, my 
man," as he goes up to him, shows the dealer his customer 
knows what he is about. He now knows what to do, and 
what kind of language to hold. But let the other attempt 
the same thing, he could no more do it in the same way 
than he could fly: he would (at least such men generally, I 
may say invariably, do) make his selection out of three 
ways of proceeding: he would be afraid to enter the stall 
at all, but stand squinting round the post, forgetting a horse 
was in the next very likely to resent his propinquity to 
him; or if he did venture into the stall, he would do so in 
that hesitating manner that would show the horse he was 
afraid of him, and induce him to take some very rough 
liberties if so inclined; or he would (from not knowing his 
danger) go so suddenly into the stall as to take the horse 
by surprise, who in return would probably very much sur- 
prise the gentleman by his heels or mouth, for his looking 



214 LATHERING. 

to see if the racl^-chain was loose or on the head collar 
would be out of question. In either of these last cases, I 
will answer for it he places himself just in that situation in 
the stall, that, should a horse strike or bite, he is sure to 
nail my gentleman against the standing, or eject him by a 
very summary process: serves him right: he was as much 
out of his place in a dealer's stable as the dealer would be 
in the Marchioness of Londonderry's drawing room. But 
supposing so /unesie a catastrophe not to have occurred, the 
dealer is by this time satisfied beyond doubt how to treat 
this customer, who, of course, considers himself quite equal 
to purchase for himself, or he would not have gone there. 
He therefore begins something in this strain: "I see, sir, 
you are no bad judge; you have not picked out a very bad 
'un. I saw you looked at all the best horses I have." 
Nothing but oil runs so smoothly down the back as a little 
well-timed flattery. — " I say, Jem," says one of the helpers 
to another, " master's giving him the soap pretty well I 
thank ye." The soap, however, as Tom elegantly styles 
it, takes effect, and now, caveat emptor, or you will get 
pretty well lathered. 

The horse is now ordered out, and we will suppose the 
other is also out by order of the judge. The proceedings 
of the two will have been different even while the bridles 
are putting on. The Muff will probably (in as he thinks 
a knowing way) say, "Come, none of your ginger." — ^<'0h 
no, sir," says the man, "master never allows it." Muff 
turns round, hums a bar or two of "Ah che forse in tai 
momenti," or a scena in La Sonnamhula: while so doing, 
in goes the ginger, and out goes the horse. " No want of 
ginger there, sir." — Now the other has given no such di- 
rections, but, if he objects to it, has never taken his eye off 
the horse: so either allows its being done, or prevents it, 
as he wishes. They now severally take a general and 
cursory view of the horses, but from very diti'erent reasons. 
Muff looks generally, because he does not know how or 
where to look critically: he perhaps lifts up a foot, because 
he thinks he ought to do so, by which he gains about as 
much information as if he looked into a coal-scuttle. If 
he desires the horse's mouth to be opened, he learns by 
this that there is a tongue there, but nothing more. But 



SHAVING. 215 

let me tell him, he has really, without intending, learned 
something by this; for though such an idea never entered 
bis head, he miglu have found the horse had lost part of 
that. He now, having seen as much as he would see if he 
looked for a twelvemonth, most probably orders the nags- 
man to mount him, who of course rides him in the way 
most likel}^ to please, either by letting him go quite quiet- 
ly, or m>aking him curvet all down the ride or yard. He 
then desires to ride him himself; orders the stirrups to be 
lengthened, measures their length by his arm, twists his- 
fingers en Dragoon in the mane; motion one, two, three, 
and he is mounted. He rides, looking at every visible 
pari of himself, for in his opinion a very goo<l reason — to 
see how he looks — and he then looks at every visible part 
of his horse. With the investigation of himself, I will an- 
S'Wer for it he is perfectly satisfied, and with that of the 
horse, not knowing enough to be the reverse, if he has 
been carried ea&ily, he is probably satisfied also. He re- 
turns, now Tom's master's soap goes to work again: "That 
horse will make you a beautiful charger, sir: there won't 
be many such in your regiment." — "I am not in the army.'^ 
— " Oh ! I beg your pardon, sir, I thought from your riding 
you was." — {Mem. ''a civil man this dealer.") — Muff now 
dismounts: the nag goes into the stable, the gentleman 
into tlie counting-house, gives his check, and is lucky if he 
does not shortly find out that his purse has got one in re- 
turn lea tolerable stiff amount. The gentleman now walks 
off, but the nagsman has been watching him — or the office 
is given that he is going. He is allowed to get to the gate,, 
that the dealer may be supposed not to know what is going. 
on, though it was very likely himself who gave the man 
the signal. Up comes nagsman, touches his hat — "Beg 
your pardon, sir J the nagsman, sir, if you please!"-^-" Oh,, 
certainly!" Out comes the purse, Tom sees half-a-crowrt 
coming out of that. "You've got a nice horse, sir I" — > 
"Well, I think he is." Out follows another shilling. "I 
pinted out tliat horse to you, sir, when you came into the 
stable: I knew he wauld suit you:" (another shilling:) "I 
am glad you've got him, sir," — (no lie this) — "for though 
he's as quiet as a lamb, he is a high-couraged horse, and 
'tisn't every man can ride him as you can." (Shilling th& 



216 A CUSTOMER WHO WOn't BE SHAVED. 

third.) Tom sees the purse closing, so, finding soap will 
do no more, he touches his hat again; in goes the money 
into his pocket; in goes his tongue into one cheek; and 
then in goes Tom and two or three companions to the 
public-house, takes something short, and then goes to see 
what is to be done with the other customer, about whom 
he makes inquiry something in this way: "I say, Jem, 
which way did that covey go with t'other horse? Oh, 
here he comes; he's a wide-awake chap that, I'll pound 
him; soap won't do with he." 

We left this covey, as Tom in his aristocratic language 
termed him, taking a cursory look at the horse. I may be 
asked why he takes only a cursory look at him? For a 
very different reason from that which induced Muff to do 
the same thing: he only in this stage of the business does 
this to see how he likes his general appeal ance, for it would 
be useless to take the trouble to minutely examine a horse 
(a thing not to be done in a minute,) and then find, on see- 
ing him move, that he had no more action than a three- 
legged stool. After therefore having ascertained from his 
general appearance whether he quite likes it or not, he sees 
him run: if he likes it, he does so to ascertain whether his 
action corresponds with his looks : if it does not, he saves 
all trouble by ordering him in. This order Tom know.*, 
it is useless to hesitate in obeying, for, as he Kiy^, soap^ 
persuasion is of no use here. If this purchaser should not 
like much the looks of the nag, he orders him to be moved' 
that he may ascertain whether his action is such as to make- 
amends for his want of appearance. For this, he does not,, 
as Muff did, direct Tom to mount him : he merely says- 
(for such men in these cases deal pretty much in mono- 
syllabic terms,) "go on, walk," Jf this pleases him, or" 
nearly so, he then merely says, "run on.'^ When he has^ 
seen enough of his trot, on the horse returning he holds up 
his hand: "wo-ho." Tiie nag is now placed against the 
wall: "give him the length of his bridle, and let him stand."" 
The dealer and his men well know what this means, and 
by this time thoroughly know the sort of customer they 
have to deal with. They see he is, as Tom says, wide 
awake: they know he will have his own way, and see the 
horse in his own way, or not look at him at all. It is true, 



NOT TO BE HAD. 217 

that if this horse has been bit two days ir> the dealer's sta- 
ble, he has been taught his lesson too well not to be kept 
on the qui vive, if wisher], by private signals (not very easy 
to detect,) in spite of the man at his head pretending to 
coax him to stand still. But, in Tom^s phrase, he knows 
very well that "Wide-awake won't have it;" so still he 
does stand. And now he examines him in earnest: he 
looks at him, sideways, before and behind, looks minutely 
at those parts of his shape and make that indicate the pos- 
session or want of powers for the purpose for which he in- 
tends him; carefully looks and ascertains whether he stands 
well and firmly on his legs, and whether they are placed 
as legs should be: he then examines him as to soundness^ 
not merely to ascertain whether he is sound at fhe present 
moment (for the dealer having warranted to such a m.an^ 
the probability is that he is sound,) but he looks carefully 
to see whether there is any thing that indicates a disposi- 
tion to unsoundness, as in that case he might be very sound 
to-day and very unsound in a week's time, without the 
right to return him. When he takes up his foot, he looks 
at those parts that are generally the present or future seat 
of disease: he looks at his mouth, and learns all Muff did 
by so doing, and a little more: he does not merely look to 
see if the appearance of the mouth corresponds with the 
age told him, for he pretty well guesses that the mouth will 
naturally (or by artificial means be made to) indicate the 
specified age; but it is to be certain that artificial means 
have not been resorted to that he looks, and this nothing 
short of a very competent judge can detect. Should the 
horse show m.uch unwillingness to allow his mouth to be 
opened, our friend W^ide-awake would examine it with 
double scrutiny; and if he fo:ind no tricks had been plnyed 
as to age, he would very naturally infer that balling 'h:.d 
for some reasons been pretty frequently in use. Having 
done this, looking at the eyes and coughing him has of 
course not been omitted. It is not my province to give, 
if I was capable of it, a treatise on eyes, though I do not 
think I should quite buy a blind one; and as to coughing, 
I must make one observation: some horses who have often 
undergone this process bscome so irritable in the throat 
that they cough the moment it is touched, others, from 
19 



218 BIS DAT QUI CITO DAT. 

the same cause, namely, practice, can hardly he made to 
cough at all; while the ihorouj^hly-sound unpractised horse, 
on being tried, gives a fine sound vigorous cough, and there 
ends it: for though a broken- winded one may be so do.^ed 
and set as to be made breathe like a sound one for many 
hours, I defy all the lowest thieves of dealers in the world 
to make him cough like a sound one. All these prelimina- 
ries having been gone through, our friend (as I may very 
appropriately term him) makes his dernier examination by 
lifting up his horse's tail. Now had Muff done this, he 
would have learned about as much as he did by looking in 
his horse's mouth; namely, he would have seen there was 
something there: but Wide-awake judges by the appear- 
ance of wlvat he sees there — a something that gives him a 
shrewd gue.ss as to the hardihood of his horse's constitu- 
tion. I am not, however, presuming to write instructions 
on buying a horse: I am only showing the different modest 
of trial or purchasing between two buyers. 

The horse is now ordered to be saddled. Wide-awake 
hums no scena from La Sonnainhula or any thing else; 
here he attends to his business on hand, follows his horse 
into the stable, sees him saddled, sees he shows no reluc- 
tance or vice, and on baing brought out, and just seeing the 
stirrups are somewhere about his length, mounts his horse 
at once, gives him his head, and lets him walk away; tries 
his trot and canter; now comes back, having while out 
privately again looked at his horse when left quietly to 
himself. On returning to the yard, all Tom ventures to 
say will be, "I hope you like him, sir! 3^ou found him a 
good goer, sir I" The probable answer will be, "Yes, I do 
not dislike his riding, anrl he is a very fair goer." This 
buyer we will suppose also gives his check, but, without 
waiting to be waylaid by Tom, goes into the stable, and 
gives his half crown. Tom, however, from habit cannot 
help the "You've got a good horse, sir," in addition to 
touching his hat. Tom says no more, being pertectly 
aware that all he could say would not get a shilling more 
than he had a right to expect, and what was customary he 
would get without wasting his breath. 

1 have merely by the above supposed case endeavoured 
to give some idea of the very different probabilities there 



THE FORCE OF HABIT. 219 

are of two persons — the one a judge and the other not so — 

getting what they want at the hands of a dealer I 

must add, in any thi?>g — and to show how soon the no- 
vice and the judge are detected. That the novice will be 
detected at once is quite clear; but I will farther add, if a 
man accustomed to look at horses was to wish to pass for 
one who was not, I do not believe he could do it; a some- 
thing, an habitual mannerism would detect him: in short, 
neither party could do any thing like the other. Such 
men as the Marquis of Abercorn and Lord Lonsdale 
would both probably show the same refined manners at 
their own tables, and be equally at home at a Levee; but 
the former could no more look at a pack of fox-hounds or 
a stable of hunters in the same wa)^ as the latter would, 
than the latter's coach-maker could act the part of his 
noble customer either as host or guest. You could no 
more tell a man how to act the part of a horseman than 
you could tell him how to act that of a gentleman : you may 
tell him not to commit such atrocities as to eat with his 
knife, wipe his hands on the table-cloth in lieu of his 
napkin, eat his soup with his spoon lengthways instead of 
sideways, or to literally wash his mouth in his finger glass; 
but he will not even sit down on his chair like a gentle- 
man if he is not one; nor will a novice even walk through 
a stable like a man used to do so. Habit must give the 
air of both. If a vulgar man will thrust himself among 
gentlemen, he is sure to be detected and shunned; and if 
a man, unaccustomed to the thing, will go and purchase 
for himself, he is likewise certain to be detected, and im- 
posed upon. If I have convinced those of this who were 
not before aware of it, I shall have the satisfaction of 
knowing I have done some good. 

I have only as yet supposed men going to reputable 
dealers: how people may get off in going to those who 
are not so shall be a farther consideration; and if my 
reader will so far honour me, we will perhaps walk toge- 
ther and take a peep into a commission-stable and a public 
repository— not intending to say any thing in general dis- 
paragement of either of the last-mentioned places when 
conducted by men of probit}'; but it may do no harm to 
know and to keep in our recollection what we are exposed 



220 MAKIJWl OR MARRING A SERVANT. 

to, supposing (of course only jiw^ fir/re/y supposing) the. 
owner not to be quite immaculate. 

I left the two gentlemen (each of whom I liavc been 
rude enough to distinguish as Muff aiid Wide-awake) 
having purchased their horses — we will now drop the SU' 
briquet, and in more decent terms designate the non-judge 
as Mr. A., and the judge as Mr. B., and will suppose each 
to have had his purchase six weeks, by which time a tole- 
rably fair estimate may be supposed to have been formed 
of their respective worth after being used in a moderate 
way. We shall thus see how" each of these gentlemen 
stands so far as regards their prospects in a pecuniary point 
of view — whether they may wish to dispose of their 
horses again, or keep them. I do not mean to sa}^ the 
conclusion we shall come to will invariably be the case; 
but I will answer for it that to two men (of similar habits 
to each of these) in nine cases out of ten the result will 
be very near the one I shall in this bring it to. 

We will not here enter on the subject of grooms, on 
whose qualifications as stablemen of course much of the 
well-doing of a horse depends, but will suppose each 
gentleman to have a good servant. It would be useless to 
suppose each to -have a bad one; for, though it might be 
quite possible for Mr. A. not to have a good groom, we 
may depend upon it Mr. B. would not have a bad one; so 
we will conclude them to be both good: but we may be 
pretty certain they will not be equally good, for two rea- 
sons: first, Mr. A. is of course no better judge of a good 
stableman than he is of a good horse, while Mr. B. is aia 
equally competent one of the qualities of either. And 
farther, Mr. A. probably leaves every thing to his groom, 
or, if he does interfere, his directions as to stable manage- 
ment will probably keep pace with his judgment in buy- 
ing: so, supposing his servant to know his business, his 
horses derive no more benefit from it than if he did not 
Thus, under any circumstances, they will not be as well 
managed as Mr. B.'s, who leaves nothing of importance to 
his groom, or at least not without a watchful eye that it is 
properly done: so that, had he taken a man from the 
plough-tail, he must under his eye become a good servant; 
that is^ he will learn to handle his wisp, brushy and duster 



A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE IS A DANGEROUS THING. 221 

properly and like a stableman, and not to spare his labour, 
otherwise B. would very soon spare him. When he knows 
this, and knows how to feed, water, and exercise horses as 
may be directed, he knows quite as much as I ever wish 
a groom to know. There is another thing, however, he 
must learn, and this Mr. B. would soon teach him; name- 
ly (like a soldier,) to obey orders without presuming to 
ask why or wherefore they are given. The moment he 
is allowed to give his opinion, he is spoiled: defend me 
from a knowing groom! If 1 was engaging a man, and 
he told me he could attend horses without a veterinary 
surgeon, if they wanted one, I should reject him at once. 
The horses never would be without a ball, drench, or 
powder in their stomachs! This sort of knowledge may 
be very well {iii a very limited way) for a stud groom 
who has twenty or thirty hunters under his care; but then 
I should take care that Barbadoes aloes, soap, a few carmi- 
natives, some nitre, a little soap liniment, goulard, and a 
little dressing or hot stopping for the feet, constituted his 
pharmacopoeia. If he began talking of calomel, arsenic, 
alteratives, absorbents, digestives, sudorifics, &c., the mo- 
ment he had done, I should have done with him. Let 
him see that his men under him strap: if a horse is amiss, 
1st him report at head-quarters that he is so: I will answer 
for it my monthly report of the state of ni}^ stable is bet- 
ter than that of those who trust to one of these veterinary 
grooms. 

Both horses have now been had the six weeks, so vve 
will have a look at them, beginning with A.'s nag. Being 
fat when bought, he concluded he wanted nothing but 
v^ork to get him into condition. Certainly not; nothing 
but work to get him into bad condition: it has got his 
flesh off, and he is lighter, it is true; so would a pound of 
butter be if we exposed it to the kitchen fire: I have no 
doubt many dealers' horses might be melted down by the 
same process. 1 have never tried this, not being an ex- 
perimentalist, and having an old-fashioned plan of my 
own for doing it by other means. But others may try it, 
and s'lould it succeed, I shall have done as much in my 
way by the suggestion to save time as Brunei or Stephen- 
son b}^ steam. For here we buy a horse long in his coat 

19* 



222 MELTING DOWN. 

perhaps, certainly fat as a bullock: but the time of getting 
into condition will only be according to the nieltniian not 
Melt^nian plan, as follows: viz., to melting twelve hours, 
clipping ditto; so in twenty-four hours v/e have a horse 
in hunting condition. What a bungler I must be! I never 
got a fat horse from a dealer's stable into condition under 
half as many weeks. I do not mean to say Mr. A. has 
been quite so quick in his operations; but I will answer 
for him he has brought his horse to a most comfortable 
state of inward debility, and, in point of outward appear- 
ance, no bad representative of a Malay-cock stripped of 
his feather. Des belles plumes font ties heau^K oisecntx: 
50 we are told, and a great many plumes give the a])pear- 
anee of a plump oiseau: so a great deal of fat on a horse 
often stands good in some people's eyes for very little 
muscle. Take away that fat, we then find we have got 
the long Malay-looking gawk of a beast I have simila- 
rized: but, worse than this, getting fat off by work when 
the frame is not hard enough to bear it reduces muscle 
also. So, deficient as the horse ever was we will suppose 
in that particular, he has been made ten times worse than 
he would have been by injudicious treatment. There he 
stands, wasted; what little flesh he has on him soft as 
hasty-pudding; spiritless from constitutional weakness, 
and with, in stable language, his belly up to his back-bone: 
for though a horse blown out with mashes and warm water, 
and his ribs well covered with fat, may look in good pro- 
portion, it may be found, when stripped of this fat, that 
his ribs run backwards something like the strings of a 
harp, and may probably be about as long as those that 
make the high notes on that instrument — a diminution 
that Bochsa will probably approve for a harp, but which I 
do not consider quite so desirable in a horse. 

Let us now see what B. has been at with his purchase. 
I will be bound to say A. did more with his in the way 
of wasting in a fortnight than B. did in a month, though 
he had probably given him three q. s. doses of physic in 
the time. Here he conies^ lightened too of all unnecessary 
avoirdupois, but cutting rather a different figure — in higli 
spirits from vigour of constitution — his eye like those of 
the gazelle — -I had almost said of the fair Theobald her- 



MISGIVINGS. 223 

self; his muscles, now relieved from any superfluous ap- 
pendages, beautifully developed ; showing a form that in 
the horse indicates what that of JNlr. Jackson, so well 
known in the pugilistic world, did in his palmy daj's in a 
man — strength, courage, and activity. Yes, as a boy I 
well remember Jackson the beau ideal of a fine man, 
though not then a young one — of course never a fine 
gentleman, but a fine felloW;, and no small share of the 
gentleman in him either. 

Mais revenons a iios moiitons. Here is one horse, in 
trade language, certainly fifty per cent, of less value than 
when bought ; the other, to say the least, thirty per cent, 
better ; and why ? A fine eye with fine judgment saw 
what the one horse would become ; whereas the want of 
both prevented the other purchaser seeing what the other 
horse would degenerate into : added to which is to be the 
treatment afterwards. The different position of these two 
gentlemen after purchase will show why men who know 
nothing of what they are about universally abuse horse- 
dealers, while the man who does know what he is doing 
does not, but estimates them by a proper scale : he knows, 
as tradesmen, they will impose where they can. I should 
deserve to be imposed upon if I went to a linen-draper to 
buy window-curtains instead of sending my wife, when, 
though I have heard the names, I do not know book- 
muslin from lawn. The only excuse I could have for en- 
tering the shop would be a pair of bright eyes behind the 
counter ; and then I should get a double refined dig as to 
price, and well worth the money too : she would sport from 
the extra five shillings a new riband on Sunday : whether 
a better or worse, it would be a different heart to mine 
that would grudge it to her. Now if a horse-dealer gets 
you into his stable, and you get the worst of it (which 
you certainly will if not a judge,) he gives it you, as if he 
considered you a gentleman, to a gentlemanlike amount. 
But the master dealer in jaconets and lenos, or whatever 
he calls them, entices you in by a Brobdignagian two, and 
two or three Lilliputian figures afterwards, something in 
this way, 2*,oia. — the latter in pencil ; and on going into 
his shop, tells you, on your throwing down six shillings 
for three yards of quite new or just out, "Oh, sir, 2s. 



224 MAKING ALL SAFE. 

2\d.\ but it is not what 1 recommend gentlemen like you 
(you will find Tom's soap here also.) I have a beautiful 
article (a nice article he is) at 3.9. Qd. :" so, blushing for 
being taken in, and laughed at by half a dozen little wicked 
devils with ringlets shaking at you, you pay 10.9. Qd. for 
what is worth the price you expected to pay, viz. six 
shillings. Confound the fellow ! Though I allowed my- 
self to be done by the little Briseis with the radiant eyes, I 
do not bargain for the same in return for looking at his 
greenish, grayish, half-squinting, wholly suspicious-looking 
ogles ! Besides, there is a meanness in the thing, a kind 
of low petty-larceny sort of cheating that disgusts one. — 
Not but that I give him all credit for being willing to im- 
pose on me to any amount if he could ; but what I hate 
the fellovv for is, cheating for so small a consideration ! — 
That man's soul would never be " above buttons." 

To sum up the vvhole, I allow horse-dealers to be roguish 
enough : they know that in a general way I think them so; 
but my bootmaker, tailor, butcher, and baker know I think 
them so too, and never did trust to their honour; and lest 
they should bring the joke against me, I bring it against 
myself. Since the partial abolishment of confinement for 
debt took place, they won't, trust to mine: they are quite 
right: I began the game by never trusting to them, and, 
wh)t is more, I never will. One thing I have found from 
their not trusting me — that at the end of the week two- 
thirds of every thing do for the same family that used to be 
booked to my account when my bills were paid quarterly, 
or, I must allow oftener, half-yearly. Very odd this ; for 
of course these honourables furnished all that was put down 
in the bills. But if, as some people say, all tradesmen are 
more honest than horse-dealers, then what out-and-out su- 
perfine double-refined XXX rascals all horse dealers must 
be '. As, however, I know this is not the case, why in 
that case the true case is this: if you purchase with judg- 
ment, you will do, buy of whom you may : if you do not, 
b ly of whom you may or what you may, in that case your 
case will be in the wrong box. We will now bid adieu to 
A. and B. and their horses, wdiom I have only introduced 
to show why men knowing nothing about horses abqse 
horse-dealers more than they do any other tradesmen.— 



THE SAME TUNE IN A MINOR KEY. 225 

The fact is, such men, knowing less of horses than of other 
articles they purchnse, lose more by them, and conse- 
quently always attribute their losses to their having been 
taken in by the dealer in them : but the truth is, they are 
only not as much taken in by other dealers, because they 
are better judges of the articles they deal in : if thej were 
not, they would be equally taken in by them. 

We must recollect that Messrs. A. and B. are supposed 
to have gone to a respectable man, who in no way deceived 
either (ho great thanks to him, it may be said, as regards 
B.:) but no matter; the other was not taken in: the two 
horses perhaps cost originally the same price in a fair, the 
difference between them only being, one, like Pindar's ra- 
zors, was "made to .Sd*//," the other to use. If you choose 
to buy a glass-imitation stick as a curiosity, well and good ; 
but if you mean to walk or ride with it, you must not be 
angry with the shopman for selling it you. B. w^ould pro- 
bably buy a good ground-ash for his purpose, and inwardly 
smile at your choice: possibly he did so when A. bought 
the horse. 

We will now mention a second class of dealer, ^y 
these I do not mean men of more or less honesty than 
those who fly at higher game: the same principle acts on 
both. By second class, I mean men who deal in horses 
ranging from 30/. to 60/. a-piece. Such men are found in 
numbers in the more eastern parts of London and the City. 
These men we may occasionally even now see dressed, as 
a horse-dealer ought to be, in his single-breasted coat and 
top-boots, with his whip in his hand; not like his custom- 
ers, in satin cravats and waistcoats, which give him the ap- 
pearance of a dealer in such articles,; for if he fancies they 
give him that of a gentleman, he most wofuUy deceives 
himself. It draws on him the ridicule of those who merely 
abstain from expressing their disgust at the imperfect and 
impertinent attempt at imitation from the feeling that the 
noticing his dress would be a matter of supererogation, the 
immeasurable distance between them being such as to ren- 
der it of no importance. The dealer, however, who has 
sense enough by a proper appearance, a straight forward 
bat respectful manner, to show he is willing to pay a pro- 
per respect to his superiors, will always command tliat re- 



226 

spect from them that is due to every man whose conduct 
deserves it, be his situation what it may. Mat Milton 
was never very courteous in his manners; but gentlemen 
do not want politeness in a horse-dealer: they only ask 
civility. 

An attempt at politeness from a tradesman is imperti- 
nence: he might as well take a lady's hand to help her to 
Jier carriage. I can mention a glorious bit of impertinence 
that took place a few weeks since on the part of one of our 
1844 dealers. A gentleman went into his yard: the 7nille- 
jieurs scented hermaphrodite gentleman-dealer was arrang- 
ing his well-oiled curls at the moment, (quite maiivais ton 
of his customer not to wait till he had completed the in- 
teresting occupation,) though he had gone through this cere- 
mony every hour. Instead of showing his stables and horses, 
this puppy turned on his heels, and addressing his foreman, 

said, "Mr. ," (mind the Mister! — "this gentleman 

wants to look at a horse!" To make any remarks on his 
conduct to such a man would be quite useless: he would turn 
a deaf ear to all remonstrance. I in no shape mean to say that 
a horse-dealer would be more respected from his manners 
being coarse or vulgar, or that his dress should be that of a 
cow-dealer; quite the reverse: his address may be that of a 
gentleman, and his dress also, without any offence to anyone: 
but let that dress be appropriate to his pursuits, and if he 
is fortunate enough to have something of the address of the 
gentleman, he will not make it more so by attempting the 
puppy-dandy gentleman, a character by the by now nearly 
exploded among men of family and fashion: it is, therefore, 
perhaps not so inappropriate as I at first stated it to be in 
certain horse-dealers in contradistinction. J. know no man 
whose dress and address were always more in character 
with his pursuits in life than Mr. John Shackell, of Oxford 
Street; always in good taste: and let any man point him 
out to a stranger as a country gentleman, neither his ap- 
pearance nor manners would induce you to doubt his being 
so; and Beau Shackell was always a bit of a Count top, was 
a very good-looking, not to say handsome man, and kneio 
it: but I never saw him sport satin (among his horses at 
least.) I have known men take a copy of his dress as a 
riding one, but 1 never knew an instance of his forgetting 



liETTING THE LUNG ODDS. 227 

himself SO far as to copy that of any one of his customers, 
and then wear it in his yard. 

Let us return to our dealer in proper dress, if such a one 
is now to be found, or at all events to a man who is not a 
would-be gentleman. The customers of such men lie a 
good deal I should s^y among young city men, who sport 
their hack or buggy with the knowledge and consent of the 
governor, and frequently their hunter without. Our deal- 
er, knowing these are safe men, lets them have the latter, 
and pay for him at their own convenience. This induces 
the young Nimrod to swear by bell, book, and candle, that 
Bray (as we will call our dealer) is the best and honestest 
fellow in the world: so Rray supplies the governor also 
with what horses he wants. 1 mentioned the name of Bray 
by chance, as I might have done any other: but as it is 
always pleasant to say a good word where one can, I had 
many years back some deals with a Bray (I mean Aaron 
Bray) for buggy horses, and no msin cotild have behaved 
better as to them, nor with greater civility than he alway;* 
did, and now does whenever I see him. From what little 
1 know of him, I wish he had made a fortune. I suspect 
it to be rather difficult to say which dealer has: for we must 
not trust to appearances. 

The way in which many people always lose money by 
buying horses from dealers, whether high or low ones, is 
of course that they give more than the value of the horses 
they buy of them. Provided they lose, it may be said it 
matters little from what cause it arises; but as I always like 
to look into causes, whether effects are beneficial to me or 
the reverse, perhaps others may do the same; but, where 
the effect may be the same, it in no way follows the cause 
is the same also. In buying a first-rate horse from a first- 
rate dealer, you give too much, for this reason, he gave too' 
much for him at first for any purpose; but to sell, he charges 
you perhaps half as much more; so when he is sold to you, 
in dealer's slang, " he won't want selling again. '^ If you 
must not lose by him the devil's in it. Be he as good as 
represented (and perhaps he is,) you gave too much, unless 
indeed he turns up trumps; but the crdds are much greater 
against horses doing so than cards. 

Now in buying horses of second-rate dealers, you also 



228 THE DEAREST NOT ALWAYS THE SAFEST. 

give too much: but this (of course I speak rn a general way) 
much more frequently arises from the hoi*se not turning: 
out what you expect. A really fine horse, with fine action 
and in fine condition, cannot be much improved by all that 
can be dane to him; but a rather plain horse with moderate 
action can be wonderfully altered in his natural appearance 
when shown; so you run much more risk of being disap- 
pointed in such horses after you have got them than in su- 
perior ones. 

The first-rate dealer's horses, in his language, "want no 
selling;" they will "sell themselves:" the second-rate 
dealer's will not, so he must sell fhem. The first-rate 
dealer has only to talk you into p}nce, for as to the horse, 
as he might probably tell you, "you can't mistake him;"' 
now the other lias to talk you into price and horse too. 
Here I am only speaking of young untried horses, and how 
far the appearance af the two may aftei'wards correspond 
with your ideas of them when shown to you. Allow that 
on being brought home you have given ten pounds too 
much for a forty-five pound horse: as he is just as likely to 
be sound as the other, and equally likely to turn out good 
for the purpose he is wanted, you still have 35/. for your 
45/. Should he turn out but badly, he must be bad indeed 
if he will not bring 25/.; so there is but 20/. lost, though 
you were disappointed in his looks and goodness: whereas 
should the other look as well as he did, and also disappoint 
you, the loss will in no shape merel}^ be in proportion. If 
it would, it wonld merely be that each buyer lost according 
to his means and capital: but it would not, and for this rea- 
son: the dealer in lower-priced horses is more careful in 
buying; first, because he cannot afford to speculate so largely 
on looks as the other, knowing his customers will not; so 
he gives no more than he knows his horse is worth, and 
therefore can afford to sell to you at something like his 
value: the other charges you twice what he is worth even 
if he turns out well. Thus, though, as I have said, the in- 
ferior horse may disappoint you the most as to looks on a 
second inspection, and you see you have paid somewhat 
tjo much, the other will disappoint you three times as much 
in point of his price. Good or bad, in either case you will 
most probably lose; but your risk in buying an untried 



A BLACK DKAUGIIT. 22f) 

horse of the first class of a fashionable dealer is truly awfuj, 
even if he does not deceive you so far as the horse goes. 
These ridiculous prices have been chiefly brought on by 
dealers (who have capital) supplying horses on credit: their 
customers don't care what they give, and, comparatively 
speaking, the dealer therefore don't care what he gives to 
supply them. Go into one of their stables, they will not 
open their mouths under 150/. Men willing to pay, and 
not judges, so constantly hear of these prices, that they 
really fancy nothing is to be got under; so they give it 
also: if they will, the dealer is a fool if he does not make 
them do so. 

Let me tell gentlemen also, that in the stables of second- 
rate respectable dealers they will very frequently find the 
identical horse they had been asked 150/. for standing for 
sale at 70/., about as much as ever should have been asked 
for him: not that he is a shilling worse than he Was three 
months since; but he has got into a stable where every cus- 
tomer is not a 150-pounder; nor does its master give quite 
such unlimited credit: neither does he talk of his cham- 
pagne to customers, some of whom, being deeply dipped 
with him, bear with his impertinence (I pity the man who 
is.) A nobleman taking champagne at the table of a flash 
horse-dealer is, I conceive, an occurrence more to be "ho- 
noured in the breach than the performance;" but a refusal 
might for sundry reasons be made unpleasant to his lord- 
ship : so, as 1 give him credit for feeling the "performance'' 
unpleasant, it is something like a dose of physic, neither 
pleasant in the breach nor the performance, so the sooner 
it is got rid of the better. From such dealers as do not 
advertise "fifty young sound fresh horses from Horncastle' 
fair," we may also get horses of whose merits, when we 
come to use them, we may judge from their having beerif 
at work: so it is our own fault if we are much deceived in 
them; for though we are not in the hands of one of the 
high-flyers, we are in those of a respectable man (we mean 
by and by to have a look at tlve regular coper who lives by 
screws.) From respectable middling dealers, numbers of 
good horses, and good hunters too, are to be got; and if a 
man wants a horse lo go to work, he is much more likely 
to suit himself with them than with the generality of those 
20 



230 ESTABLISU^IEI^TS FOR LOVER?, 

who deal m higher-pricec! horses; for if the latter onTj get 
fashlonable-lookrng ones, their object i& attained. 

A purchaser should always bear in mind w^hat it is that 
brings horses to moderate prices: it is in the generality of 
cases one of these drawbacks — want of beauty, want of ac- 
tion, want of soundness, or want of temper; for if a horse 
i& perfectly sound, free from all vice, has beauty and fine 
action, he cannot be bought of ffn^y dealer under a high 
figure. Still such a harse certainly may be purchased for 
nearly half the sirm of one dealer than, he can of another, 
and for this reason: OBe dealer has nc?t so many CHstomers 
who give enormous prices as the other has; so he must selJ 
at less prices, or not .ve// ai all. Some ladies fancy they 
cannot get "a love of a shawl " unless they go- ta the most 
expensive house ta buy it. The prayers of the sinful are 
oever heard : I have cursed two or three of these establish- 
ments for "loves of things" to their hearts^ content; but, 
confound them J there they stand, aixl while they do I sup- 
pose our wives wiU go to them; and so wqll ceiiain men 
pay much more for their hoi-ses than they need do, because 
they also come from a particular establishment. 

I have, I remember, in an early part of these " Hints,^^ 
said that a man knowing little of horses will in the end pro- 
bably find a respectable dealer the best source whence to 
supply himself: 1 say so again; but the term respectable 
may perhaps bear a different import in different people's 
minds. I mean, by a respectable man, one who values his 
character too. much to commit acts incompatible with the 
character of being as fair in his dealings as we may expect 
any trader to be; but I do not consider respectability in- 
volves the necessity of imitating Lord Chesterfield in the 
colour or tie of his cravat. Cravats at a pound a-piece will 
not last for ever, nor will a case of champagne. If these 
are not paid for by the user out of a private fortune, they 
miist be paid for by some one else. " What good-natured 
people they must be who do pay for them !^' A man may 
say, and with truth, he wants a fine horse, and does not 
know where to get him but somewhere where satin is worn ; 
pjrhaps he does not know where else to get him. I dare 
say he does not; but there are plenty of men who do, and 
a man must be badly off for friends if he cannot find one 



A DEAR HORSE. 231 

who will take this trouble for him. Btit then the money 
must be forthcoming; promises or " bits of stifT'^ won't do 
for men who will take a reasonable profit, and want their 
money to go to 'market with; for " bits of stiff" won't do 
there either. 

A friend of mine, who is a very fair judge of a horse, 
two years since merely wanted one to carry him safely and 
pleasantly on the road: he rides heavy, is a liberal man, so 
was willing to pay a liberal price, and he did so (very con- 
siderably more than a hundred.) The horse did not suit 
him, though what the dealer said of him could not be con- 
tradicted (for pleasantry to ride is rather a va^ue and inde- 
finite term, depending so mnch on ideas as to what is plea- 
sant.) He was immediately changed: money changed 
hands also, of course. The new purchase did not suit 
either; was most civilly (I beg the dealer's pardon for the 
term as applied to him) — well, then, mosty;o//7e/^ — changed 
also, and the difference in price as politely taken. This 
went on till my friend, despairing of getting a riding-horse, 
and wanting a match carriage-hoise, took one, I believe, 
this time without giving money, and he got a fair useful 
ordinary carriage-horse. He told me some time afterwards, 
that, on looking to his memoranda, he had given, first cost 
and differences of exchange, an amount during the time that 
made this carriage-horse stand him in a trifle ov^er 600/., 
and he is a man who strictly adheres to the truth. " Cham- 
pagne for ever!'^ 

1 have said that many men are really at a loss where to 
find a horse if they want him. These are only men who 
never buy a horse but as they do a dinner-service, namel}', 
when the one is broken, or a change of fashion induces them 
to do so. If a man is known as a connoisseur in pictures, 
or bronzes, or books, he is at no loss where to find them; 
he need not even seek them. The dealers in such articles 
will take very good care he shall not be; but, on the con- 
trary, will wait on Mr. — or his lordship the moment 

they think they have got any thing they can persuade him 
to buy. So it is with horses. If tiie Marquis of Anglesey 
wanted a park-horse or a charger, or the late Lord Sefton 
a carriage-horse (both as first-rate judges of these different 
horses as of things that require a more refined taste to he a 



^32 

judge of) — these noblemen need not hunt dealers' stables 
for horses. In the first place, the pad groom or the coach- 
man will soon let it he known in the right quarter that my 
lord has room for a horse: the dealers know to a hair what 
horse will suit each: they know it Vv^ould be useless to show 
or send any other, and they farther know they must not 
play tricks here: the connexion, they being able to say they 
supply such men, is too great an advantage to risk the loss 
of: and, though they know they will be paid a liberal price, 
they also know tlie}^ will not be paid a ridiculous one. 
They know, if a horse cannot handle his legs like Taglioni, 
the marquis won't ride him; and, unless his pace and action 
were first-rate, they knew Lord Sefton would not have 
driven him. 

A dealer requires a good deal of tact to act the best for 
|iis own interest with his different customers. With some 
of these his business is to literally suit and please them, 
that they niay say they buy horses of such-and-such men, 
and they have always behaved well and fairly. Now they 
would not say they were treated fairly if the horses they 
bought did not generally answer their expectations; and 
they would be right in saying so, because they would not, 
like the bad judge, buy what by nature was inappropriate 
to the purpose wanted: so the not suiting would proceed 
from some hidden fault or failing, not from the evident 
want of judgment in the selection. The dealer knows this, 
and consequently, knowing that in such cases he has no ex- 
cuse, is very careful in selling. Such men, barring the risk 
inseparable from purchasing untried horses, generally do 
not get disappointed: when they are, they are sensible and 
liberal enough to blame if blame is due, and not to censure 
where censure would be injustice. In the event of a horse 
not answering their purpose, they would send for or go to 
the dealer, and something like the following remarks would 
probably take place — ■" Well, Collins," (we will say Collins 
as well as any other name,) " that horse does not turn out 
as well as we expected." — "I'm sorry for it, my lord :'^ 
(in this case he is so:) "I hope you found him as near aa 
I could judge what I told your lordship." — "Yes, I have no 
fault to find; he is sound and quiet, and goes well; but he 
is a jade, and, after going a dozen miles, he is not worth a 



"dillt, dilly, won't you come to be killed?" 233 

farthing." — {Mem. one of the blessings of buying young 
fj-esli horses!) — " I shall be most happy, iny lord, t-o change 
him for any thing in my stables; or, if there is nothing 
there your lordship likes, I vv'ill look out immediatel}-, and 
you will perhaps be kind enougi;. my lord, to drive the 
brute till I have got what will suit your lordship." He 
either supplies another from his stable, or hunts for one in 
others; and in all probability he suits his noble purchaser. 
Now, though I never recommend any one to change a 
horse with a dealer when he has once been deceived, in 
tliis case my lord did quite right in going back to the same 
dealer, for he had not been deceived by him: the only de- 
ception was in the horse: he had deceived both dealer and 
purchaser; and such cases must occasionally occur with 
many young horses, which sometimes beat the best judg- 
ment. 

In the case I have alluded to, the dealer would not ask 
a shilling for the exchange (provided of course that his cus- 
tomer takes a horse of the same class:) but his lordship, 
unsolicited, hands him probably, when suited, a ten-pound 
note for his trouble and civility. This is as the thing 
should be: the dealer has made a fair profit, and acted the 
part of a respectable man, while his customer has not for- 
gotten he is a nobleman. 

Now there is another sort of customer that it is the deal- 
er's interest neither to take in, nor offend, nor suit. This 
customer buys on his own judgment; consequently never 
is, or probably never will be suited till he gets some other 
person to buy for him. He cannot blame the dealer so 
long as the horses are sound and free from vice; nor will 
he of course blame himself: he attributes it all to ill luck. 
This man is a regular income to the dealer, who of course 
makes his market of him, and still retains his own character 
and the good opinion of his customer. These sort of men, 
like trout, only want a little tickling, and will be had just 
as easily. Now the dealer understands tickling, so makes 
sure of his fish, and does him (as all cooks should do their 
fish) a nice hrovjn. 

There are, of course, various classes of dealers, descend- 
ing to the lowest: but we must not seek out all there: 
neither the space any periodical can afford to the same sub- 

20* 



334 "a rope's end to iiim." 

jcct. nor its readers' patience, would admit of this; we will 
therefore make acquaintance vvith the low dealer — and a 
very low and dangerous acquaintance he is. Of these there 
are various sorts; but I hope I shall not be considered to 
confound the dealer, who, being low in pocket, can only 
deal in low-priced horses, and but few of them, perhaps, 
with the regular organized scoundrel, low in manners, low 
in pursuits, and still lower in principle. There are many 
decent and respectable men who can only keep two or three 
20/. or 30/. horses, that are quite as worthy of confidence 
as their more opulent brethren. These men ride their own 
horses about the streets, show them to tlieir customers, and 
often act as useful middle men in finding horses for them, 
if their own circumscribed means will not enable them to 
do so from their own stable. These are probably young 
men beginning vvith a capital of 50/., qr dealers who have 
seen better days. 

The men I desisrnate as low dealers are of various other 
sorts, of which I will mention, first, the thoroughly low, 
half pig-jobbing, half horse-dealing-looking vagabond, with 
a greasy macintosh, a pair of ma/iOgan7/-cQ\oured top-boots, 
a red worsted comforter round his neck, arriving with his 
confederate in a wretched gig, with the still more wretched 
lame, spavinous anatomy of a good one drawing it. . These 
fellows are to be seen in every fair. Thej^ do not go there 
like the respectable man, certain to buy if the fair produces 
what he wants : they certainly do mean to buy if what 
they want presents itself, that is, if by means of the rascal- 
ity, bullying, blackguardism, and united efforts of them- 
selves and their worthy coadjutors, they can cajole or 
bully any one out of his horse for little or nothing, doing 
also a little business in selling a regular flat-catcher at five 
times his worth. They are also ready to do any bit of 
rascality fqr another dealer, which he, although a rogue, is 
not open-faced rascal enough to do for himself. To such 
fellow dealers often intrust the sale of something they may 
have by them that is too bad to own ; yet will you find 
p'^ople weak enough to buy of such fellows a horse for 20/. 
that^ny one could see, if he could see at all, would be 
\> orth 60/. if he was half what they represented him fo be. 
A man nviy be tr.!;en in by a respectable and fairrdealing 



EXPERIMENTALIZING. 235 

exterior ; but I do not think I ever saw one of these fellows 
hut on whose countenance was written rascal as legibly as 
we see written Dr. Eady or Warren's Blacking on the 
Park walls. 

These fellows will be seen either bustling about a fair, 
or planting themselves at what they call " Catch'em 
Corner," which means some spot where every horse pa- 
raded in the fair must pass them. Here they stop every 
one, and ascertain the price asked for him. Should they 
he asked 60/., they will laugh outright, ask if the person 
tliinks them fools, or say, "Ask me 20/., and I'll talk to 
you." This, though they have no idea of buying the horse, 
they do for these reasons : it can do them no harm; no one 
knows what an owner may take rather than not sell ; and 
they know it does what it is their business to do, throws 
a damp on the seller's hopes. He had perhaps made up 
his mind, if he found he could not do better, to take ten or 
fifteen pounds less than he asked ; and, had they talked of 
forty instead of sixty, he* would consider either he asked 
twenty too much, or that they wanted to get his horse at 
too little. But to be told to ask twenty (which of course 
m.eans that less would be offered if he did) for a sixty- 
pound nag is such a choker, that the owner (if he is not 
used to such things) hardly knows whether he or his horse 
stand on their heads or heels. He cannot conceive any 
man would have tlie impudence to make such a remark 
unless he had seen something radically bad about the horse 
that had escaped the owner's notice. He is almost tempted 
to look at his horse's eyes to ascertain whether he has 
gone blind. Now if one of these worthies perceive any 
thino- of this, thougli, when he courteously begged to be 
asked 20/., he had not the remotest idea he should get him, 
he now begins to think the thing, though still improbable, 
by no means impossible, and as, if he fails, it will cost him 
nothing, he resolves to "try it on;" and something like 
the following very refmed remark will probably be made 
to some other worthy : " I say. Jack, I think the gammon 
fits a bit, don't it?" "Go after Johnny, and tell him I 
want to show him the Queen's face." 

From this moment our respectable acquaintance and his 
friend dotormine that thoy will have tlie horse, or that he 



23S phTsic gratis. 

shall not be sold at all. They certainly cannol determine 
he shall be theirs, but if they set about it, they certainly 
will, in nineteen cases out of twenty, prevent his being 
bought by any one else. It may be fifty to one against 
their getting him; but if in one case in fifty they do 
succeed, it is all in their favour, for spoiling the sale of 
forty-nine horses costs them nothing, and getting the 
fiftieth is all monp.y in their pockets. Conscience tliey 
have none; so the virtually robbing, or, to use a milder 
term, spoiling the market of forty-nine persons to the tune 
of hundreds, is nothing in their estimation, if it gains them 
twenty, ten, or five pounds, ay, or five shillings. But how 
can they spoil the sale, may be asked ? Very easily ; and 
this is one of the hundred ways in which they do it. 

People are always more prone to listen to any censure 
than they are to praise of c/?i7/ thing. A bit of scandal 
always goes down. Ay, blush, fellow man, when I assert 
that it does so even when scandal is levelled at lovely 
woman : there is a devilish sort of pleasure mankind has in 
hearing other persons or their property abused. Roche- 
foucault was not much out when he said, II y a qiielque 
chose dans les malheiirs de nos nieillenrs amis qui i c 
nous deplait pas. He knew human, I might say inhuman, 
nature; one word said in dispraise will go farther in bias- 
sing men's minds, than twenty said in commendation — 
whether it be in the case of a horse, a woman's character, 
or Captain Warner's invisible annihilator. 

I fully intend visiting a commission stable and repository ; 
but really dealers are such funny fellows, 1 should be sorry 
to show them any inattention, which I must do if 1 leave 
them too soon. I beg to observe, when I speak of them 
personally, I never declare more than the truth, or any 
thing but the truth ; but 1 do not wish to declare the whole 
truth, unless any one wishes it. I only give a mild alter- 
ative. If I should find this produces irritability instead of 
a '\vholesome tone of body and mind, I have some medicine 
of a more drastic nature by me that I never administer but 
'^"ii extreme cases, or where it is desired. As to repositories, 
I shall not forget my promise to walk into them. 

The worthy pair I have just mentioned having half 
persuaded the owner, and quite persuaded many others, 



WIZARDS OF THE EAST, WEST, NORTH, AND SOUTH. 237 

that there is something wrong about the horse (for the 
opinion or even insinuation of a third party will in ninety- 
nine cases out of a hundred go farther in persuading people 
that a horse has some fault than all the owner can say to 
the contrary) — they now seek a little adjunct in the servant. 
If he is a fool, they really do satisfy him the horse is worth 
little more than they have offered; and then letting him 
know that a couple of sovereigns will be his if they buy, 
in no way of course tends to induce him to alter this 
opinion ; and he then begins to recommend his master to 
sell him if possible. Should they, however, find the man 
has sense enough not to be their dupe, they then try his 
honesty and bid high ; and I fear on this tack they too often 
succeed. Having paved the way in either case to the 
assistant offices of the servant, their game is now to appear 
to have given up all wish for the horse, which one of them, 
however, keeps a sharp eye on, and also on every one they 
see even looking at him. Should any one seem disposed 
to do this, the fellow on the watch accosts him — " Nice 
nag that, sir, to look at ! / was pretty near putting my 
foot in it with him." — " Why," says the looker-on, " is 
any thing the matter with him ?" — " Oh no, not for some 

people ; hut " And he walks away, imitating a lame 

horse. This is enough ; the looker-on thanks his stars he 
was not done, and how fortunate he was to have seen that 
man ! The other miscreant, while this is going on, gets 
back again to Catch'em Corner to see if he can start any 
fresh game, taking care, however, to pass and repass the 
owner of the horse as often as he can, to show he has given 
him up, waiting, hoping, and fully expecting (in which he 
is seldom disappointed) that the owner will come to him. 
I think I see the fellow standing with a longish ground 
ash in his hand, which he either keeps bending about or 
has it with his hand deep in his coat-pocket. I know the 
very position of the vagabond. Here he stops every pass- 
ing horse, with something like the following very pleasant 
mode of address. If he sees a gentleman on a horse that 
is not a colt, he begins, in a particularly civil voice, " Beg 
pardon, sir ! what are you axing for the old horse ?" — 
Should a servant be on one that looks in good working 
condition, he begins with, " Now, then, how much for the 



i^3S A SPEECH. 

notomy ? wo, old Step-and-fetch-it : let's look at you" — 
this of course loud enough to be heard by all by-standers. 
The chance is, that some friend or other of the dealer, 
seeing what is going on, gives the thing a lift, and, address- 
ing him, says, '* I say. Brown," (or whatever the fellow's 
name may be,) "are you going to 'stound Smithfield?" — 
This raises a laugh against both groom and horse. Now, 
nothing people hate more than to be laughed at. The 
dealer knows this; so tells the groom to come on one side 
out of the crowd. Glad to make his escape, he goes. — 
Here both soap and money are tried on; and, as the groom 
would almost sell himself rather than be again exposed to 
the sneers of the multitude, it will be no wonder if he is 
anxious to sell the horse, vvhich he does if the price is left 
to him; if not, he does all he can to persuade his master to do 
so. The dislike to this kind of publicity that most respect- 
able persons have is one of the many engines these fellows 
work to obtain their ends, either in buying or selling; and 
many good horses are really sold at half what the owner 
expected, and many bad ones bought, actually to avoid the 
slang and blackguardism of these low vagabonds and their 
companions. 

Now w^e will suppose, what probably will be the result, 
does occur. The former gentleman, finding to his groat 
surprise (not being aware of the sale of his horse being 
previously spoiled) that he gets no offers made for him ex- 
cept by friends of the dealer, who have been sent to offer 
him even less than he did, he goes to the dealer, and talks 
of taking, say 10/. more than he had offered, and 30/. less 
than he (the owner) had asked: but he now finds the case 
altered ; that is, it is represented to be so : he will be told 
that the dealer having seen more of the horse, does not 
like him at all, or he has bought two others, which are all 
he wants : besides, " talking of thirty pounds, sir, why, 
there's a horsed I bought him (showing one belonging to 
some friend who is perhaps asking 50/. for him) for IS/. : 
he is worth two of this old 'un."^-" Very well," says the 
gentleman, "then you decline him : go home, Thomas." — 
^■' Why, as to that, sir, I don't mind buying him ut a price.^' 
" Well, wait, Thomas."— He now tries the civil, candid 
tack ; " dares to say the horse is a good horse ; is ^ure the 



CATCHI>'G A WEASEL ASLEEP. 239 

geiTtfeman vroulcl not deceive him — (Mem. no fear of (hnt f) 
— dares to say the gentleman thinks he offers a low price j 
but country gientlemen don^t know what sich horses are 
worth in Lunnun : he couldn't sell him as a sound un to 
none o[ his customers, not by no means; he should sell 
him for a homnibus to his brother, who wanted one; he 
mlglit do a little vork in leather; wishes for the gentle- 
man's sake he could give more; ^twoald be better for he 
and the gentleman too if he could ! he has three fivers left; 
he would give that, but he would as soon be without him." 
It ends in his getting him : he gives the servant half-a-crown 
openly — (says nothing of the two sovereigns given before) 
— then tells the gentleman '-he hopes he'll remember his 
man ; says the rule is a gentleman gives double what the 
dealer gives." The man gets five shillings, half of which 
goes to the master. 'J'hus this and many other horses are 
sold, and this is often the result of people unaccustomed to 
such places going to fairs to sell their own horses. They 
are detected at once by such vagabonds as I have described: 
a regular plant is made on them, and they are legally- 
robbed of their property, or at least something very near it, 
A man who may read what I have described may say 
he would not be so green as to be done in that way.— 
Probably he might not, but there are hundreds who would; 
and it is still possible, that, had the gentleman not read 
what I have written on the subject, he might, notwith- 
standing his confidence in himself, have been done precisely 
in such a manner. Having had the plot laid bare to him, 
he thinks it would never have succeeded with him. This 
cannot be proved ; s^o it only remains a matter of opinion 
between him and me: and though our opinions in this dif- 
fer, I have put him a little on his guard for the future, I 
have, if 1 feel, done him some service,though he thinks, that, 
like weasels, he was not to be caught asleep. But let me 
tell him, there are some nfce lads among the low-dealing 
fraternity, and perhaps simple-looking ones too, who would 
even take the above named watchful animal dozing. I have 
only mentioned one among the thousand modes of doing 
the provincials, and I should like to bet any wide-awake 
friend long odds that if he goes into a fair they will find a 
moment to catcb him napping. When they have, he will 



240 "jockey of norfolKj 

perhaps wish he had taken Harry Hie'over's advice, and 
not trusted to his vveasel-hke attributes, or fancied himself 
to have got au fond de son mttier as a salesman. 

I have merely attempted to give a rough sketch of ane 
of the scenes in a fair: it would render these hints too 
lengthened were 1 even to give the heads of the various 
changes to be rung by rascality, all tending to the same 
result, where the actors are of the same class; and I can 
assure my friends, at least those who have but ordinary 
experience in such matters, that on all and every occasion 
where the deal with such scamps as I allude to takes 
place, they will be robbed to a certainty. Let them not 
fancy they can escape, for escape is all but impossible. 
The most knowing are not always a match for deliberate, 
and, above all, confederate villany. 

The once celebrated George Barrington was on some 
occasion brought in contact with a magistrate in the lat- 
ter's private room. On Barrington pulling out his hand- 
kerchief, he with it pulled out of his pocket a quecr-look- 
ing little instrument with a hook or hooks at the end of it. 
The magistrate inquired its use. On being plainly told it 
had been made for the purpose of picking pockets, the ma- 
gistrate jokingly asked Barrington if he thought he could 
by this means extract any thing from his pocket without 
his feeling it? He replied, he did not think he could; and 
the magistrate as confidently felt he could not. Shortly 
after, Barrington went to the window and began abusing 
some passer-by on some pretended charge of ill-usage of 
himself: he (the stranger) of course expostulated: this led 
to high words: the magistrate came to the window to see 
what was the matter, and, finding one of the two must be 
wrongs requested the stranger to walk in, and he would 
see into the merits of the case; and he left the room to go 
to the stranger. On his return, he found Barrington gone, 
who of course did not wish any interview with the stranger, 
who consequently took himself off also. This was well 
enough; but, on wishing to see the hour, his worship dis- 
covered that his watch w\as gone too. He now remem- 
bered the hook. Barrington, not daring to keep it, re- 
turned with it next day, when, if report says true, the ma- 



"THE EAGLE DOES NOT TAKE FLIES.'* 241 

gistrate presented it to him for his ingenuity: if so, he was 
a trump. 

I hope my friends will believe me when I say that a 
horse in the hands of a certain set is to be made as effica- 
cious an instrument for picking pockets as George Bar- 
rington's hooks. They may forget themselves, and be in- 
duced (if not to look out of window as the worthy magis- 
trate was) to do something that puts their pockets in quite 
as much danger. Whether in buying or selling, the only 
way is to have nothing to do with these gentry: never fan- 
cy you can guard against their tricks: they have a dodge 
at every turn. Nice lads to get a bargain of! Yes, they 
will give you a bargain, '•'with a hook.^' 

We will shortly show how these fellows act when a 
gentleman or any other individual wants to buy; for they 
will have a finger in the pie here too. I have before said, 
these scamps do not come to fairs (in the common accep- 
tation of the term) to buy, that is, they do not come to buy 
a certain number of horses to take away to be sold at a 
proper and general profit. If they can buy, as I have re- 
presented, a horse for a quarter of his value, in which so 
far as one or two they generally succeed in doing, they 
buy, and of course do not object to their being sound: but 
they would much prefer buying what they term a " good 
screw " at ten or twelve pounds, that would be worth sixty 
or seventy if he was sound, to buying a sound horse at 
thirty that in ordinary dealing they might expect to sell 
for forty. It is by screws they live, and why they do so 
is easily explained. For instance: a good sort of (what 
dealers term) tradesman's horse, six years old, sound and 
a fair goer, is worth we will say forty pounds. This is 
one of the kind of horses that can be valued as easily as 
the gig or four-wheel he is destined to draw: take him 
where you will, he is worth within two pounds, more or 
less, of that sum: his size, age, looks, and action, will al- 
ways command about that; but there is nothing in him to 
command more: every man who knows a horse from a 
hand-saw can judge his price; there is no flatching in him. 
Go to Burford's stables; 1 doubt not among his other horses 
he will show you twenty of this stamp: he must keep some 
such among others for his customers. But this is not a 
21 



242 hie! PRESlro. 

money-making sort of horse: lie cafi only be sold at a fair 
profit, like a sheep or a bullock. Now this sort of horse 
would not do for Rascal-dealer at all: he could not get a 
LOB out of him: consequently he never buys such (in a fair 
way at least:) he does, if, as I have shown, he can do some 
one out of him for fifteen or sixteen pounds, not otherwise. 

There are horses that no man alive can value — such as 
hunters, horses of e:^traordinary beauty, or horses of extra- 
ordinary pretensions as to going. Such horses are worth 
just what different people choose to give for them. These 
are the horses to bring the profit to first-rate dealers; but, 
as Rascal-dealer cannot touch them, he must find some- 
thing else whose value— or, I should in this case sa}^, 
worthlessnes3 — cannot be easily defined; and this is the 
good screw. What he terms "a good screw'' is a horse 
whose complaint or tricks can be so palliated or concealed 
for a time as to prevent their being defected (sometimes 
even by a good judge.) It would be useless my attempt- 
ing to describe the thotisand-and-one ways to which such 
fellows resort to produce the desired effect: it would fill a 
good-sized volume; and then the ordinary run of buyers 
would be still unable to detect them. A man may be told 
that the conjurer does not leave the watch in the box, as 
he pretends to do; but if the man sees the watch in the 
box, locks it himself, keeps the key, and on again opening 
it finds the watch gone, it only amounts to " How di^ 
he get it out?" after all. The truth is, the conjurer was 
too quick for him; and depend on it Rascal-dealer would 
be too quick too, notwithstanding dl the previous infor- 
mation or fancied knowledge the buyer might have. 

Particular shoeing, beaning, (or other ways of producing 
the same effect,) hot water, stimulants, sedatives, phj'sic, 
copious general, or local bleedings, rest or constant exer- 
cise, tonics, sickening medicine, fiiti'gue-, keeping a horse 
aw^ake for three or four nights and days, wilf all pro- 
duce wonderful effects on horses in palliating lameness, 
bad eyes, bad wind, internal or external weakness, vice, or 
violence. People will suppose a horse's throat an open 
sepulchre when I tell them I have once seeri^ as many as 
six-and-thirty balls popped down a broken-winded one's 
throat OEte after the other: it is nevertheless fact: he seemed 



A GO. 243 

to take it as a matter of course. I saw the same horse 
sold more than ten times over in Dublin in about six weeks; 
so, as he doubtless got his dose each time he was sold, 
reckoning by lengtb, he got in time about thirty yards of 
ball down his throat. Pretty well for the time! If he 
has gone on ever since, I conclude his inside has by this 
time l3ecome tolerably well lubricated. 

I have mentioned sickening medicines, and it might ap- 
pear to some persons strange that a dealer should wish to 
sicken his own horse. Well, then, suppose a dealer has 
bought a thoroughly-known vicious restive run-away brute 
— to be sold he must be tried; and to be tried, he must be 
rode. Now it is not so extraordinary he should wi&h to 
sicken him a bit. If my reader has ever enjoyed the 
pleasant sensation of a thorough sea-sickness, I will answer 
for him, that, hasty or belligerent as he might be on ordi- 
nary occasions, he was tame enough then: so I have seen 
horses so violent that it was next to impossible to mount 
them, and as difficult to keep on their backs when mounted, 
rendered so sick and tame that you might have lifted them 
into a wagon for all they cared at the time; and thus have 
they been prepared when "the gentleman was coming to 
ride them." In a few hours the effect goes off, and then, 
when the gentleman attempts to ride, probably he goes off 
too. " Very astonishing! nothing could carry him quieter 
than the horse did yesterday." If the gentleman is only 
astonished, he is very lucky; but he is farther astonished, 
when, on calling on the dealer, he probably has also gone: 
so altogether he finds it a very pretty go! — The first go 
was wrong in going to such fellows. 

But suppose Mr. Rascal does not mean to go, but stands 
his ground, and takes the horse back: he then brings this 
violent customer of a horse to his senses in another way, 
and for a more permanent (but still temporary) period. 
He ties my gentleman's head up to the rack, which he 
gives him full permission to look at; if he can derive any 
nourishment from that, he is at liberty to do so: a man is 
placed behind him with a whip night and day: this keeps 
the horse from getting a wink of sleep — the man of course 
relieved by a substitute. The horse does not find himself 
particularly relieved by this process, nor is the substitute 



244 ONE OF THE TEMPERANCE SOCIETY. 

behind him and two or three pounds of hay and a little 
water n very pleasant substitute for good feedinp;; nor is 
the addition of his forty-eight hours' vigil any pleasing ad- 
dition to his comfort. Mr. Horse begins to find this any- 
thing but a joke, and keeps looking round as far as he can 
to see if any one is coming. Right glad would he be to 
welcome the very man whose brains he would have tried 
to have knocked out two days before if he went up to 
him; but no, there is the man on the stool of reform, and 
Mr. Horse finds himself on the stool of repentance. He 
is now well prepared by abstinence for a dose of physic; 
very sick; no sleep allowed; warm water ad libitum; 
must not be made to look too lanky. By the time the 
physic has done, and four days and nights of constant 
wakefulness, with nothing bat a little bran and warm 
water, have passed, with what weakness, drowsiness, and 
fatigue, there is little doubt of the horse carrying quietly 
enough. He is accordingly ridden; if any remains of res- 
tiveness or vice appear, he gets first a sound thrashing, 
which he is too dispirited to resist, and then he gets another 
night of it till he is thoroughly tamed and browbeaten: he 
is again sold; and probably, though then put on proper 
feeding and allowed proper rest, it takes some days before 
he so far recovers himself as to resume his former habits. 

Perhaps, from having been thoroughly cowed, he never 
does become quite as violent as he was before; but restive 
he will be no doubt. Now what is the purchaser to do? 
He cannot most probably prove the horse had been restive, 
while Mr. Rascal will not only swear, but bring plenty of 
witnesses to swear, he never was; and indeed the gentle- 
man and his groom cannot help allowing that for a week 
the horse was quiet. If he goes to law and gains his 
cause, it will cost him a good deal of money and a great 
deal of trouble; and the chances are that so many witnesses 
will outs wear him. The only wise thing for him to do is 
to give the scoundrel a sum to take him back, which he 
will do, as such a horse is an income to him: he is a good 
screw, though not a lame one, and will be sold over and 
over again by the same party and his coadjutors. 

Having mentioned Dublin, and a horse there, I will men- 
tion another that I saw sold there, at the different Reposi- 



A FOREIGNER. 245 

torles and fairs In the neighbourhood, I should say twenty 
times. The fact was, if he was sold on Tuesday at one Re- 
pository, he was certain to be on Friday for sale at another, 
as the buyer was sure to find him out in an hour after he 
had got him. He was what is termed ''a chinked-backed 
one;'^ that is, he had been injured in the spine. Many of 
these horses will do well enough with no weight on them 
when going straight along: stop them short, or turn them 
round quickly, the secret is out at once ; but this is of course 
avoided when shown for sale. The horse I allude to was 
a very good-looking harness-like horse, five-years-old, and 
worth fifty if he had been sound: he was in the hands, or 
at least was most of his time in the hands of one of these 
Mr. Rascals: he was not only a good, but a superfine screw 
to him. Ononeof the variousoccasionsof this horse beingsold 
I was much amused at the fellow's consummate impudence 
and ingenuity. Some of my readers may have to learn that 
a horse thus injured in the spine is, in dealer's slang, termed 
^<a German," why I know not: and from this I suppose is 
bysome also called ^-a foreigner." On the occasion to which 
I allude, a gentleman was very properly abusing the fellow 
-^-who was an Englishman, much to the credit of my coun- 
try!— for selling him this horse. The fellow's reply was, 
first, "Did I warrant him sound?" — ''No, you did not: 
you said you could not, as he had a corn." — "Well, so he 
has a corn." — " Yes, you scoundrel, but you did not tell 
me he was broken-backed." — "No, nor he ain't broken- 
backed : he is only chinked a bit. Did not I tell you he 
was •i.furri)ier^ and that was why I sold him so cheap?" 
-^" Yes, you did; but what has his being a foreigner to do 
with liis back?" — "Why, every thing: if I told you ahorse 
was a buck, I suppose you'd know his eyes warn't right, 
wouldn't you?"^-"No, indeed I should not."— " Why, 
then,more's the pity! I say, Jem (continued the fellow to 
some friend going by,) I sold the furriner to this gemman; 
told him he was one; and now he wants to know what 
that has to do with his back?" — "Does lie?" said the fellow; 
**!et him get on him an he'll know." — "Now," says Mr. 
Rascal, "3'ou see every body vot knows any thing Knows 
what a fu'riner means. I didn't vvarrart him; you harn't 
got no law nor justice on vour side; I wish you luck with 



246 TAKING A-BACK. 

him !" The gentleman looked as if he doubted very much 
the arrival of the luck bespoke for him, and I doubt not 
would have sold his expectation a bargain. In short, he 
did not seem to know quite what to do; but he was likely 
to be relieved from his dilemma by a man (of course one 
of Mr. Rascal's friends) coming up to him, and saying, 
"Why, I hear, sir, you have bought the broken-backed- 
'un:" (he was broken-backed now!) — "he's of no use to 
nobody; he can't carry a pound on his back, and he can't 
draw more nor an empty cart: he's been sold here for three 
pound many a time. The fellow you boughthim of oughtn't 
to be allowed to come into no sale-yard." — "Well,'' says 
the gentleman, ^'I am taken in, 1 know; I paid eighteen 
pounds for the horse, and am willing to lose by him; but 
he is not so bad as you represent him." — "Ain't he, 
though?" says the fellow: "just let's see him out." The 
horse was brought out. "Here," says he to some scamp 
in the secret, "just run this horse, will you." The horse 
was put to the best of his trot, turned as suddenly round 
as possible, and, as it must be with such horses, he nearly 
fell on his side as he turned, and appeared for a minute or 
two hardly able to stand. I need not go on farther with 
the thing than to say, that, as is always done in such cases, 
a crowd of vagabonds got collected round the gentlemanj 
and to avoid their sneers, coarse jokes, and being laughed 
at, he was glad to get out of it by selling the horse for 
three pounds! But, as a finale to his wounded pride and 
purse, in a few minutes afterwards he saw the fellow riding 
the horse, who came up to him, saying, "Why, he ain't 
half as bad as I thought he was: he ain't all the money too 
dear now!" 

I saw nothing more of my friend ihefnrriner till about 
a month afterwards, when "a horse, cart, and harness, ihe 
]rroj)erty of a tradesman^^ was advertised for sale at one 
of the Repositories at a particular hour, at which particular 
hour a horse was driven into the yard at a fair trot straiglU 
up to the auction-box, but owing to the crowd and carriages 
for sale being in the way, this "horse, cart, and harness" 
could not be conveniently turned round — [Mem. we know 
the horse could not.) — This was of course foreseen; so he 
was sold standing there, and for cart purposes his action 



STRAIGHTFORWARD DEALING. 247 

was no great matter; and it was seen he drew quietly. I 
think he fetched twenty pounds. I need scarcely say the 
cart and harness were bought in, having only been borrowed 
for the occasion. So soon as he was knocked down, he 
was slipped out of the cart, led straight up the yard, and 
put into the stable, no doubt the purchaser congratulating 
himself on having got a good horse, the genuine property 
of a tradesman! JNow, although this was all preconcerted 
— the cart and horse only coming at the time specified— 
the trot straight up the yard, as if done from being late— 
the cart not being able to be turned round — and the horse 
being taken straight out to enable the man to run the cart 
out of the way — all was done so naturally that nothing 
like deception or any thing particular appeared. This was 
the last appearance oi furriner while 1 was there: proba- 
bly, if he did not take a benefit there, he has given many 
a one to others since. 

It may appear rather a matter of surprise how such fellows 
as I have described can afford the expense of going dis- 
tances to fairs, when, as I have said, they are not certain of 
always being able to buy. The thing is managed in this 
way. In the first place, they rarely fail to find a some- 
thing to lay their hands on ; and if they do not, can always pay 
their expenses by doing a something for respectable dealers 
which they would not choose to be found doing themselves; 
and in this case often get a couple of sovereigns from the 
jdealer for vselling some screw for him, and frequently a 
couple more from the buyer for having found one for him: 
but of course that he is a screw is only found out after- 
wards: oftentimes never found out at all, unless a very bad 
one; for if he does his work, it is concluded he is sound; 
and if in the course of time he cannot, it is supposed that 
}t is something fresh, and the owner only attributes it to 
ill-luck. 

But we will see how Mr. Rascal can help a brother in 
iniquity without doing any thing very bad; merely in fact 
giving a little guickcner to a sale. These fellows, as I 
have said, always have their eyes open for a chance, and 
in a moment know what to do on any occ:ision. \N e will 
suppose he sees a gentleman looking at any one horse in 
a dealer's lot: he may not have asked any questions about 



248 "A FELLOW FEELING MAKES ONE WONDROUS KIN 

the horse, but our lynx-eyed friend plainly sees he is pre- 
paring to do SO, or has just done it. Up bustles Rascal to 
the dealer: " Bob, 1 want that good horse of yours." Now, 
by his good he means to imply in a general sense superior, 
and of course this good would have been equally applied 
to any other horse among them that had attracted the gen- 
tleman's notice. This gives the buyer in prospectu an 
idea that he has not made a very bad choice. — Quickener 
the first: "Well," says Bob, ''what d'^^e want wi' he?'' 
The at once recognising the horse meant by the term good 
shows that Bob considers him his best horse. — Quickener 
the second: *' Why, I wants to tako him to the gemman 
what bid you money for him just now; he wants a friend 
to see him." " Oh ! he's welcome to show he to who he 
likes; but mind I won't take no less." — Quickeners 4, 5, 
6, and 7: out comes the horse, the lip-string properly 
tightened up: no need of ginger — that was right before: 
some need of the spurs; so in they go now, and off goes 
Rascal, making the best show possible. — Quickeners, 
enough; for the gentleman, not thinking the horse is being 
set off to any particular advantage, the intended purchaser 
not being present {or any where else,) he congratulates 
himself on having seen the horse aii natiircl, as the 
Frenchman said of the first potato he ever saw, and conse-^ 
quently ate raw — the only difference being, Monsieur did 

not like the potato at all, whereas Mr. likes the horse 

very much. While the other is gone, Bob shows the 
gentleman two or three others; praises them more than 
he does the one he intends the gentleman to buy: this 
shows he is not anxious to sell him. Back comes Rascal; 
times it to come up just when he has the horse mettled 
and settled to his best pace: "Now if you like to take a 
fair price, I have sold him: the gentleman will give the 
guineas, and no farther trouble." — The quickening is now 
going on very fast, indeed almost boiling: " I won't take 
the money, so put him in." — "Why, you'll make three 
pound clear by him, so let him have him." — " I tell you I 
won't; I won't stand none of his haggling: he sha'n't have 
him at no price now: so there! put him in" — Rascal 
jumps off in a passion, damns Bob and his horse, and 
swears "he'll never try to sell a horse for him again." 



THE HALTER ON THE WRONG ANIMAL. 249 

Bob, equally polite, damns Rascal, and tells him " he don't 
want him to't." Now the gentleman, having no reason 
to suspect that Rascal knew any thing of his wishes for 
the horse, really considers he has heard a genuine conver- 
sation between the two; and the little gentlemanlike ebul- 
lition of temper between them, and Rascal's still surly 
looks, confirm it: so he thinks he has got what we may 
term a little stable information — about as good and as 
much to be depended upon as some very cunning people 
get from racing establishments. The quickening now 
boils in right earnest: an offer is made; the dealer leads 
the gentleman confidentially by the arm a little on one 
side that no one may hear how cheap he sells him the 
horse; taking care, however, to keep within ear-shot of 
Rascal, who may be useful if any thing goes wrong. The 
horse is ordered to the Red Lion, or Scarlet Bear, or 
wherever the gentleman likes; the dealer takes care never 
to leave the gentleman till he has touched the cash; wishes 
him luck; gets the luck-penny; and then Rascal and Bob 
go to dinner: so will possibly the gentleman, after he has 
seen his horse the next day — Mem. "with what appetite 
he may." Not that I mean it is certain he has bought 
an unsound one: perhaps not: still I will answer for it. 
Rascal showed him better in a halter than Gentleman will 
with a bridle. I have, however, only shown how in one 
way a little quickening may be applied. Of course the 
game is played in various ways, according to circum- 
stances: sometimes a different and the long game has to 
be played; whereas short whist did in this case. 

Now let me explain a little of the by-play that probably 
escaped gentleman's notice. I have said the dealer took 
him by the arm (it's a way they have) a little out of the 
crowd: gentleman thinks it very natural the dealer may not 
wish every body to know all about his horse {Mem. deal- 
ers have a great many little natural ways with them.) 
Gentleman will, however, find there is more of the natural 
in himself than in the dealer. Now, the gentleman is quite 
right in supposing it was not wished that every one should 
hear the conversation; but the dealer's motive for this was 
somewhat different from what it was thought to be. It 
was this: he did not know who might be in the crowd — 



250 TACT. 

perhaps some persons well known to his customer; and 
then, if things went wrong, they might be brought forward 
as witnesses of vvhat dealer iiad said about the horse. For 
this reason he is taken out of the way, and Rascal is kept 
in the way as a witness on dealer's side: so the gentleman 
by these means can bring no witness if he wants one to 
swear the truth, while the dealer has one to swear any lies 
he may dictate for him. I will venture to assert, that in 
nineteen eases out of twenty, where a gentleman is dealing 
for a horse in any public place, let him turn round, and he 
will see some Mr. Rascal-looking fellow on the listen; and 
he may depend upon it he is there for the purpose I have 
stated. This is only one of their little naturel ways of 
managing things. I have one of my little natural ways 
too; and one of them is, always to get out of the way of 
these gratuitous listeners; and, under such circumstances, 
my reader will do well to get into the way of doing the 
same thing. 

Having said something of these sort of gentry's mode 
of buying and selling, there is another part of their vocation 
to be spoken of: this is chopping, or swapping. Now, in 
good round terms, let me give my reader one bit of advice, 
NEVER SWAP WITH A DEALER. I do not mean to say but 
that once or twice during a life (if a very long one) a man 
may get a fair or advantageous exchange, but depend on 
it, if you take my advice au pie de la let ire you will do 
by far the best and wisest thing. I must mention an anec- 
dote, where it should seem a man did himself a benefit by 
tumbling from the top of a high flight of stairs to the bot- 
tom; still it is an experiment, that, like swapping with a 
dealer, I strongly recommend my friends to avoid making. 
My father and a friend, sitting in a hotel, were startled 
by hearing a tremendous fall on the staircase: they rushed 
out, fearing to find some one with broken bones; but no, 
it was a French gentleman, who had come from the top of 
the house rather faster than he had intended, by tumbling 
headlong from it. "Monsieur, vous vous avez fait du 
mal," said my father. ^^*du co?Ura2re,je vous remercie," 
cried the Frenchman. Another inmate now came and in- 
quired what was the matter. "Oh! nothing," says my 
father, " but a Frenchman has frightened us to death by 



A LITTLE MANAGEMENT WANTED. 251 

tumbling down stairs, and says he has clone himself a great 
deal of good by it." 

So you may by swapping \tith a desder: but don't try 
it! Swapping, 1 believ^e, is exchanging one thing for ano- 
ther; and tliis the dealer perfectly understands. A fair 
swap should be', if two things are of equal value, the giving 
one for ih^ other; or, if of unequal value, giving or receiv- 
ing the- fair difference in value: this the dealer does not 
understand; at least he won't, which is the same thing to 
yotf. The first thing dealer does, and will da under aln>ost 
any circumstances in swapping, is to draw money. Ik 
this" particular, I care nat be he of the highest or lowest 
grade, — the fixed principle is the same. 1 do not mean to 
say he would refuse to take a h-orse worth sixty for one 
worth twenty without boot; but I will pound Mm he will 
try £o get it. Let dealers deny it if they can (and if 
they were to deny it ta me, it would be of no use) — they 
in a general way expect to get the horse they swap (figura- 
tively speaking) for nothing. In fact, you will hardly get 
one to swap with you at all, if you have known the price 
of his horse beforehand r he will be sure then to be "quite 
full'^ — ^"expecting a lot from some fair" — ^^ shall have to 
hire" stables for them." — Mem. he would have found room rf 
you had not known the price of the horse you Want. Now 
though I am quite sure you could have done yourself no 
gooxJ by th-e swap had you made it, you may, without sus- 
pecting how, have put yoirrself in the wa}- of selling, I 
shouM say sacrificing, your horse" by attempting the swap, 
and I will tell you how. Dealer hasseen your horse, likes 
him, and Would buy him at (in his phrase) a price. We 
will say he wants a hundred for his horse, and you a hun- 
dred for yours, and, as a supposed case, the one is as wel'l 
worth it as the other. You would give ten or fifteen 
pounds for the ac^commodation of the exchange". Here 
dealer's faculties become again obtuse: this is one of the 
exchanges he don't understand. No, "this will never do 
for Galway,'^ as the song goes. Now if he could sell you 
his at a hundred, and get yours at fifty, it would do. He 
understands this, but you do not, and he would be afraid^ 
to try to make you; so, as he would say, "he could not! 
WORK." But he will though in another way. Now, if^ 



252 "THE MANAGER AT HOME." 

as I suppose, he likes your horse, and can get him "at a 
price," and sell you his too at his price, he won't have 
made a bad day's work of it: but supposing he does not 
want your horse, and can only sell you his, depend upon 
it his time will not have been lost. He knows you will 
buy his; so the first thing is to get your horse in his way 
or out of his way as may best suit him. — {Mem. this is 
another little naturel way he has!) — Now to do this, our 
lately neglected Rascal is employed: he calls at your stables, 
"has heard from (any one but the person he did hear it 
from) that you have a horse to sell." Now the w^ay he 
will ivo7^k will depend upon the hints he has got of your 
habits, temper, and knowledge of horses: he either "does 
not care about price, will give any thing for a nice-^un;^^ 
and then points out fifty things that makes yours a very 
nasty one; or he comes the candid and civil: "does not 
mislike the horse; is but a poor man; if he can make two 
or three pounds by him, he is satisfied;" and so forth: or, 
"he wants him for a gemman what won't buy no horse 
without him seeing him: will bring the gemmj^n." He 
does so: "the gemman don't like the horse at all:^^ he 
persuades him strongly to buy him. We will say the 
gemman does not buy the horse: " Well," sa3'S the owner 
to himself, " i\\e poor man did all he could to sell the horse 
at any rate:" so Rascal gets something for his trouble. The 
horse has been tolerably abused by this time, at least so far 
as gemman dare abuse him, and the owner is left to digest 
this at his leisure. This is only paving the way for ano- 
ther gemman that Rascal brings; and it rarely happens but 
the horse is got, and either goes to the dealer's stables who 
wanted him, or is sold somewhere else. Thus, in point 
of fact, the swap will be made, not indeed exactly as the 
gentleman meant, but very nearly on the same and only 
terms on which dealer would have swapped in his own 
yard. 

Most probably, on the gentleman purchasing the horse 
he wanted to swap for, something is said about the other. 
Dealer now takes his cue, and says something to this effect: 
" Why, sir, your horse was certainly a very clever nag, 
but 1 tell you very honestly" — (oh! oh!) — "that if I had 
chopped, I should have wanted to draw fifteen pounds be- 



<'T00 FLATTERING SWEET TO BE SUBSTANTIAL." 253 

tween them. I knew you would think that too much; so, 
not wishing to offend any customer, I declined altogether." 
The gentleman, smarting under " the trouble the poor man 
took to sell the horse," wishes he had known what Mr. 
would have taken, which he thinks w^as very fair in- 
deed, and resolves, if ever he wants to swap again, to come 

to Mr. , and leave the deal entirely to him. He may 

if he likes; but he will then find Mr. has some other 

little naturel way of managing the thing that won't give 
him qnite the worst of the swap! 

I have endeavoured to give some idea how a certain class 
of dealers ivcfrk, either in buying, selling, or assisting others 
in doing so; also the ruling principle of all dealers in swap- 
ping. I fear, however, I have not done any thing like 
justice to the talents of our friend Rascal. His ubiquity 
of presence, universality of information, presence of mind, 
versatility of invention and manner, with many other vir- 
tues all ready at a moment's warning to suit different oc- 
casions, are really astonishing, and a good many he does 
astonish in no small degree. I am quite aware 1 have not 
exhibited one-thousandth part of his talents. I did not in- 
tend, nor do I intend to attempt to do so; and, what is 
more, I could not if I did, though 1 do know something 
about him too. At all events I know enough to keep out 
of his hands. 

But I will now look at him in another cast of character, 
and acting in one of those precious pieces of rascality that 
are carried on to a great extent in London. Reader, you 
have no doubt seen an advertisement something to this ef- 
fect:— 

" The Property of a Lady, 

"To be parted with in consequence of the ill-health of 
the owner, who is ordered to a warmer climate — 

" A pair of splendid gray britska geldings, with full 
manes and tails, six and seven years old, own brothers 
and nearly thorough-bred, match well with grand action. 

" A beautiful brown Lady's mare, seven years old, tho- 
rough-bred; has been regularly ridden by the owner these 
last two years. 

"Also a particularly handsome dun cob, with flowing 
22 



254 KILLING LAlilES. 

white mane and tail, so docile an invalid or child may 
drive him; has been constantly driven in a low Albert 
phaeton: invaluable to a timid person. 

"The above are all sound; price will not be an object 
where they \till be treated kindly. — N. B. No horse-dealer 
need apply. — The coachman will show the horses at the 
rear of No. —^, Street, Square.'^ 

Now, as a prelude, let me advise my reader to first al- 
ways look with a suspicious eye on a horse advertisement. 
If represented as coming from a lady, eighteen times out 
of twenty it's a do: if ever it is said that the great object 
is to sell to a person who will use them kindly, nineteen 
times out of twenty iVs a do. Hut if it is said no horse- 
dealer need apply, the do is certain. It only requires a 
little reflection to convince us such an advertisement is not 
a genuine one: and to show its absurdity, though it takes 
in numbers daily. In the first place, a lady, keeping her 
carriage, saddle-horse, and pony phaeton, must of course 
also keep a servant's hack: this requires coachman, groom, 
and helper; the lady probably has two men in the house. 
Now, is it likely a lady keeping five men-servants would 
be driven to the necessity of advertising her ill-henlth and 
horses? If from that cause she wished to part with such 
horses as those described, among her numerous acquaint- 
ance and their acquaintance she would find plenty to take 
them off her hands. A beautiful mare, which has carried 
a lady two years, or a very handsome cob invaluable to a 
timid person, are not to be had every day, consequently 
want no advertising. As to finding her horses a comfort- 
able berth, really nice horses seldom get uncomfortable 
ones. But would a lady suppose any one would bind 
themselves to her horses for life? If they do not, what 
would be the use of her sacrificing her money when they 
might be again sold in a month: and as to no dealer need- 
ing to apply — why not? A dealer \Vould not use her 
horses ill, for his own sake; and as she is not very likely 
to ask him into her drawing-room, what would it matter 
to her whether he saw her coachman or not? As to the 
ill-health, it is astonishing how many ladies are in ill- 
health and wanting to sell their horses, according te> the 



LE SAVANT, ET LA SAVONETTE. 255 

papers' account. It is really cruel of these papers to 
wound our feelings by such statements; I don't say mine, 
because I don't believe them: and what is more, 1 know 
that, delicate as the fair creatures are, ladies, like some 
other things I could name, take a deal of killing: so do 
their lovers! But should the lady not find a friend to 
purchase her horses, surely Mr. Tattersall would be a 
better medium through which they might be disposed of; 
for no one who knows him could doubt his exertions be- 
ing used to their utmost extent where ladies are con- 
cerned. 

And a lady advertising her horses really has something 
dealing-like in it! Nqw if house furniture and the whole 
paraphernalia were to be adyeptised, well and good : we 
should then, if Mr. Robins was employed, see her horses 
brought before the public in something like the following 
modest announcement:— 

"Last though not least among the many prizes of ines- 
timable and matchless worth, 

THE BEAU MONDE 

may here possess themselves of those Hying specimens 

OP REFINED TASTE, 

selected for the use, and for some time the happy 

EAVOURITES OF THE FAIR; 

and as her lovely prototype of qld, the then unriyalled 

MATCHLESS CLEOPATRA, 

was wont, when sailing on the Cydnus, to shine the lead- 
ing star of her less 

BRILLIANT HEMISPHERE: 

when these envied animals, these happy slaves, were har- 
nessed to the 

GAI^ OF BEAUTY, 

did their fair mistress, by their willing aid, move amid 

THE GALAXY OF FASHION." 

I rather think there is a trifle of soap here, but not the 
beastly yellow kind used (as mentioned) by Tom: no, nor 
the plain brown Windsor used by my humble self: Mr. 
Robins has an article for his especial use, in comparison to 



256 A PEEP IN PROSPECTU. 

which he would vote the best Naples as detestably out of 
taste as musk or lavender water. Long may he get the 
best of that and every thing else for his own use, for he 
is a capital fellow, which I believe all who know him will 
allow, notwithstanding his extra superfine soap! 

When I have the honour to meet my reader next, I 
hope he will not object to go w^ith me to the stables where 
these pretended lady's horses were advertised. We will 
then see what game is playing there, and just by way of 
curiosity, and perhaps also of getting a wrinkle, take a 
look at the locality where these nonpareils of horses, " the 
property of a lady," are to be seen. Now, as we do not 
consider ourselves yokels of the first water, but men who 
know something of the world's ways, we will on entering 
the stable cast our critical eye round, to see how far Ras- 
cal and Co. have had the tact or opportunity of putting 
every thing in keeping with the pretty little piece of hum- 
bug they propose carrying on ; for it is in the minutiae of 
these things this sort of gentry, acute as they are. gene- 
rally fail; in fact, do not carry the thing through. Per- 
haps they consider that the man who sleeps with one eye 
open, do what they will, is not to be had; and that those 
who keep both on the full stretch, and yet see nothing, 
will not notice these little discrepancies, as some people 
look at a picture, which, provided the green " is bright 
enough, and the yellow golden enough," cannot see the 
want of keeping in the tout ensemble. 

I conclude a something of this opinion actuates the ma- 
nager and actor in our equestrian spectacles, when the at- 
tempt at the personification of a sportsman is made to give 
efiect to the song, 

" Hie-ho Chevy, this day a stag must die!'' 

Now (by way of parenthesis) let me observe in the first 
place, that with gentlemen who don the pink the idea does 
not suggest itself that the stag must die: in point of fact, 
if he is a game one, they determine that he must not die 
if it can be prevented. If this was not the feeling among 
sportsmen, I must indeed have been a glorious fool for on 
one occasion nearly drowning myself and horse in saving 
one in Virginia Water, and manv no doubt will think me 



<^THEY IMITATED NATURE SO ABOMINABLY,'' 257 

one for so doing. The only plea I can offer such folks in 
extenuation of what they term folly, is, that, upon my 
soul, I would not have run the same risk to save them, and 
what is more, faithfully promise I never will. 

But to return to our '^ Hie-ho Chevy " friend. How- 
ever magnificently or classically melo-dramas may be got 
u[) now, the moment they attempt to represent a fox-hunter 
or jockey they utterly fail. Did ever eyes behold a man 
appropriately dressed as a fox-hunter on any stage? Mine 
never have. From Hamlet to Crach in " The Turnpike 
Gate," as mortals; from Juno to Ganymede, as heavenly 
bodies— and heavenly little bodies some are who represent 
them (I have often wished to prove them earthly)— all 
are well and appropriately dressed. Then why not dress 
r. sportsman appropriately? The non-judges would not 
like him the less, and the judges would be more interested. 
Conceive John Kemble as Coriolunus bearding the Vol- 
scians in a Chesterfield and Wellingtons! 

We will suppose a fox-hunter is to come on : let me see 
if I can come at all near the thing by description. First, 
we hear the cracking of a whip in the side-scenes, quite 
as loud and continued, but not half as well done as that of 
a postillion's arriving from Marseilles or any other Con- 
tinental town: then we are treated with sundry yoyks, or 
y ikes, or yohikes, or some such unheard of, and let us hope 
never- to-be-heard again, sounds. Gods of hunting! what 
would old Forester (whose Life has been written by 
Thistle wHirPER as we never read the life of a foxhound 
written before, and I fear never may see any thing of the 
sort written again) — what would old Forester say? Why, 

he would worry the bagsman But hold hard! 

here he comes, while his Westminster-bridge cheer is re^ 
peated with ecstasy by some scores of " most sweet voices" 
in the gallery — [Mem., glorious English liberty this.) 
" Tallyho! there he is!" and a pretty devil it is as a re- 
presentation of one of the first flight at Ashhy Pasture, 
Why, the very grass would look blue if it saw him there; 
Kirby Gate would open of itself; and Whissendine run dry 
to let the apparition have free escape. Now " Hie-ho 
Chevy," being a Stangate Street fox-hunter, thinks he is 
acting up to the spirit of his part by putting on the look 

22* 



258 A TILE AND A TIE. 

and carriage of a half and half hostler and one of the 
swell mob. 

Then for his toggery: his coat may probably be well 
made — that is, if he did not order it, but had sense enough 
to buy it second-hand in Holywell Street; if on the con- 
trary, depend on it it will be a rum one. Why then, as 
poor Brunimell said, "my dear fellow, do you call this 
thing a coat?" though, after this observation being made, 
he might not derive the same advantage I did from a 
waistcoat of mine not pleasing this once leader of ton. 
I was going to dine with him: he scanned my dress all 
over: I conclude he thought it bearable till he saw my 
waistcoat. " My dear fellow," says he, "you must excuse 
me, and let me take a liberty with you. I cannot dine 
and look at that waistcoat: it is a mere body-case. I 
should fancy old times were returned, and my dinner was 
dressed by some wretch who cooked when people eat roast 
beef. I must positively hide it." He took me to his 
dressing-room, and made me admissible by giving me one 
of his own, making mine play the part of under-vest. 
Poor Brummell! sic transit gloria miincli! I was quite 
a young one at the time, but had I been forty he vv^ould 
have done the same thing. 

Now " Hie-ho's " hat — I did not begin with, the head 
in this case, no matter why — if he wishes to be " war- 
mint," he sports a shallow, a regular Jonathan, which he 
conceives looks like "going a-head;" or, if he thinks his 
friend Mr. Lutestring (who alv^ays ires a orse to see the 
Easter Monday's turn-out) knows how to do the thing, 
he gets the loan of his identical hunting hat; and a very 
smart hat indeed it is, with a full yard of inch-wide satin 
riband as a check-string. 

His tie — -he thinks he must not show a white, because 
Dominie Saiiipson does in " Guy Mannering," (so does 
Jem Robinson, but he does not know this;) nor must he 
sport a black, because William does in " Black-eyed 
Susan:" he might see such a thing at Barkby Holt and 
other places; this he does not know either: not by-the-by 
that I think black looks well with a hunting coat, but 
many first goers do: a blue or green with a white dot he 
could not bear, because the bird's-eye is vsported by fjght- 



"oh no! we never mention ." 259 

ing men; so this must be low: he therefore takes one, 
relying on the taste of his ladye love, and which quite 
accords with his own: he exhibits his bit of silk, a peach- 
blossom ground-light green crossed-barred, with scarlet 
and blue transverse stripes. This is a tie! I should 
tumble off if I got on a horse with it on. 

Now for his waistcoat: the bare mention of a plain buff 
kerse3aiiere would sicken him; a narrow stripe would 
annihilate him at once: no, no: his is a waistcoat — Wel- 
lington-blue satin, checked with amber and crimson stripe. 
This looks warm and comfortable, consequently fit for a 
hunting waistcoat! "Very like a whale!" 

Now his unmentionables. Why tilings should be un- 
mentionable that modesty causes us to wear, I know not: 
they say ladies introduced the term — qusere^ what do they 
consider the mentionables? I must learn this. However, 
he wears the unmentionables — so may ever those be who 
manufactured them — unless positive orders were given for 
tourniquets for the nether parts. But the artist, knowing 
good -s?^]^ corduroy is not famous for its yielding proper- 
ties, has very wisely left them quite easy at the knees, 
thus giving his customer's very much the resemblance of 
those of an ostrich, who is, I conceive, not celebrated for 
symmetry in his legs and knees: but to remedy this, a 
full allowance of riband is permitted to tighten the knee- 
band, leaving still sufficient to hang to the bottom of the 
boot-top. 

Now as to tops. " Hie-ho Chevy " certainly would have 
sported the moveable sort, but as he never means to soil 
them, it is no matter. Where or how he got the boots 
altogether Heaven knows! there are not half-a-dozen men 
in London who can turn out a top-boot. He certainly 
did not get them of any of these; and as I trust there is 
but one who could make such a pair as his, I admire his 
indefatigability in ferreting him out. It is true the tops 
are as white as putty-powder and pipe-clay can make them; 
and as the lower parts were blacked and polished off the 
leg, and had the finishing touch on, the polish is really 
good: he has heard a sportsman's dress should be easy (in 
this I quite agree with him;) so he carries it to his hoots, 
which are made with a nice easy calf to them; b'lt, to pre- 



260 "thereby hangs a tail." 

vent their getting down, they are held up by a strap taking 
all four of the knee buttons; so they hang like a travelling 
carpet-bag hung up by one handle. 

Then the Brummagems: it certainly has been the style 
for years to wear them drooping on the heel (why, I know 
not, if they are intended for use;) but friend "Chevy" 
does more: he has his under-straps made particularly short; 
so, from letting the spurs droop "« la mode^'' they look 
like a pair of Yeomanry formidables, with an extra length 
of shank to them. 

1 think we have now dressed him. Then the ease with 
which he wears his harness, and harness it is to him; for 
a man unaccustomed to wear top-boots and breeches moves 
as much at home in them as I should in the dress of a Deal 
boatman; but such as he is, there he is. 

Prelude of horns — during which "Chevy" takes the 
accustomed walk backwards and forwards; all singers do; 
so do the leopards and panthers in Wombwell's cages. 
The eleven-months-in-the-year inhabitants of London are 
satisfied they have seen the beav-ideal of a fox-hunter, 
and \\\Q facsimile of the Marquis of Waterford, or some 
such an out-and-outer. Ye Gods! the Marquis dressed tq 
mount Yellow Dwarf like such a thing! ^^ Name it not 
in Oath," still less in Melton. 

"Chev)^" now sings his song, and if he would leave 
out the " halloos,'' and keep his enormous whip quiet, he 
would doubtless acquit himself well in this part of the 
business. Having done so, the manager treats him to a 
ride, and his hunter is led on. He does not come on as 
Captain Ross's Clinker would have done, sneaking along 
as if he was ashamed of himself: no, you hear '^ Chevy's " 
hunter coming; and when he does come, there's fire for 
you! If the Noble Marquis I have mentioned should 
happen to be present, he would see no common brown 
hqrse with a scanty tail like Old Harlequin; no; here is a 
beautiful piebald, with a tail large enough (when short 
ones were the go in the Market Harborough country) to 
have tailed a whole field. Of the tailing there would be 
little doubt if "Chevy'' was there. Hut I can go no 
farther; the hunter produced is a choker for me, a ^-egular 
stopper; so we will return to the horses advertised. 



'<UP, BOYS, AND AT 'em." 261 

If we were endued with the curiosity some folks pos- 
sess, instead of going to the stables, we should go to the 
house-door and make some inquiries: but this would be as 
injudicious in our case as going behind the scenes would 
be at new pantomimes; it would dispel the illusion at once; 
for there we should probably be told the family were out 
of town, but that the stables were let for a month to Cap- 
tain, Major, or perhaps Colonel Somebody, and that the 
pro temp, Charge-d^ Jiff aires at the house knew nothing 
of any horses advertised for sale. This proceeding would 
be well enough if we merely wished to learn if the adver- 
tisement was genuine; but as we are satisfied on that point, 
and merely go to see how the thing is done, it would be 
unnecessary. It may be asked whether the advertisers 
have no fear that such inquiries may be made? In one 
sense they do fear it; in another not at all: they fear it, as 
those who do inquire will not become their victims, but 
from no other cause, for few persons would think it worth 
their while to go and abuse the soi-disant Major or Colonel 
as a rogue and a swindler: you could not have the satis- 
faction of calling a blush to his face, and all you could get 
would be a bullying fromliim and his: and as to exposure, 
could you expose him to nineteen parts of the population 
within the Bills of Mortality, provided you leave him the 
remaining twentieth, he would find gulls enough among 
them to serve his turn. These fellows do get abused, ex- 
posed, threatened, warned off, turned out, and a hundred 
other things: their plot does often get smoked; and some- 
times the place gets too hot to hold them. What then ! 
they go somewhere else, and cerium animum non mutant; 
so they up and at 'em again, and Mr. Green does come 
at last. These facts have flashed across our minds as we 
walked up the Mews, and we are quite prepared to draw 
our conclusions (were they not already drawn) from the 
cut of the attendants and the stable altogether. If they 
were the stables of a lady or gentleman, we should be re- 
ceived by a respectable man as coachman, groom, or at 
least helper, or perhaps by all three. Their proper and 
civil demeanour would show they were what their appear- 
ance bespoke: they, or he, would without hesitation state 
their employer's name, how long they had had the horses, 



262 " A COOSTOMER, 

from whom they had been bought, how they had been 
used, why they were sold, and at once state their prices. 
If one or more were npproved of, they would offer to 
lead them out, and would probably be authorized (if the 
horses did belong to a lady) to refer you to some 
gentleman who would give you any farther information. 
Then the stable,— if that of a lady or gentleman, it will 
have a used look about it, clean and well done, but every 
thing about it would show it had been long inhabited; 
the beds tidy and comfortable, but nothing remarkable 
either way--rneither plaits behind the horses as a show- 
off on the one hand, nor any appearance of neglect, as 
if one man did the whole business, on the other. The 
thing would be all in keeping: the horses would wear the 
same clothing (at least as far £is pattern;) those and the 
head-collars would show^ they were made by the same per- 
son ; so if we look into the coach-house and harness-room, 
jf there is one, we shall find harness of all sorts, saddles, 
bridles, girths, spare clothing, spare parts of harness, bits, 
&c. hung up all round. 

Now had Rascal and Co. had the precaution to carry on 
the thing so well as to have got together all this, unless we 
had called at the house, 1 allow I should be a little staggered 
on opening the stable door, and have thought it possible I 
had condemned the advertisement somewhat hastily, and 
should perhaps go far enough to make some inquiries as to 
its being genuine. But the moment we open the door, as 
the thing is here done, no inquiry is necessary. The mo- 
ment the latch is lifted, or a knock made at the door, we 
hear a bustle. This proceeds from the horses, which are 
up to the very mangers at once as quick as "attention" 
ever produced a simultaneous movement in a company on 
parade ; and farther, from the very bad imitation of a re- 
spectable servant in the fellow who is to play that part, 
having nothing to do but to keep watch, jumping from off 
the Gorn-bin or from the side of one of the horses' beds, 
where he was in a kind of lie or sit '^at ease" position from 
which the "attention" aforesaid calls him as quickly as it 
does the horses. If this should happen to be a really 
knowing fellow, he either tells a long tale, and a plausible 
one; or, as this is attended with some danger, from fear any 



MINOR SCOUNDREL AND MAJOR SCOUNDREL. 563 

discrepancy may arise between what he may think proper 
to say and what (when he comes) the Major or Colonel 
may say, he represents himself as only the helper ; the 
coachman is out (of course ;) but the said helper is quite at 
HOME, thou}j;h " he does not know much about the horses 
as he has only lately come ;" but the Major or Gentleman, 
will be here in a few minutes, as he always comes at ~ 
o'clock. Of course he does come immediately, as he 
would at any other hour, being always in ambush in some 
public-house that commands the Mews: if not, he has 
some one sent to let hini know when any one goes to the 
stable. Now our friend Rascal does not take the principal 
character here, for they could not make the greenest of the 
green mistake him for a gentleman, or a Major (unless it 
might be a ci-devant Major of the Venezuela Brigade :) 
no; Rascal takes the lower characters in the by-play, and 
here enacts the part of Quickener again (in some character) 
if he is wanted : but the principal is some scamp, who was 
probably a croupier at some low gambling-house till he was 
kicked out of it, or no better on the tuff till no one would 
bet with him, having varied his avocations by a little 
general swindling, occasional horse-dealing, playing buUy 
to some fair demirep, and probably not refusing a watch if 
it chooses tojump into his hand. S^till, as gentlemen throvv 
themselves at times into strange situations in our little Me- 
tropolitan Village, he has seen enough of them to get i. 
certain knowledge of dress and address, which lasts till 
something occurs to draw him out. Then the knowledge 
he has of words, and the multitudinous selection of epithets 
he possesses, brings out the lowest abuse distilled from his 
lips, about a thousand above proot, and he stands confessed 
the ruffian, the bully, arid the blackguard. Now, as the great 
part of the principals in these sort of advertisements are 
composed of such fellows, it is no matter of surprise that 
so many are victimised by them, and that tho'se who are 
not should not vtish to cantam'iriate theif name by bringing 
them to account, and thus they escape. 

Major, on coming, desires one of the ho'rses to be brought 
to him at Long's, Miller's, Mivart'af, or some other hotel 
that in ordinary cases stamps Aristocracy on its patrons. — 
This farther shows be has authority to act. He does not 



264 

notice the strangers but by a distant bow, and this he makes 
like a gentleman. On your mentioning your object in 
coming, his quick eye has scanned you well while he was 
issuing his orders, and he then regrets his poor friend's state 
of health, speaks of her horses as all that can be desired in 
horses; and if he sees this take, he will tell you you are 
welcome to see this or that horse or horses at the door. — 
If he does, take it as no compliment, for depend upon it 
he would not volunteer the thing unless he fancied that he 
saw a something about you that induced him to think you 
will never electrify the world by your maiden speech in 
Parliament — in short, he does not consider you la huitihne 
mervilh du monde. 

As myself and my reader are now supposed to be the per- 
sons looking at these horses, we will not allow that Major 
did offer to show them out, but that we requested it might 
be done. So far as I am concerned, I trust that neither my 
manner nor appearance have induced him to think me 
quite a rogue or quite a fool. My reader I am sure he 
considers beyond suspicion ; but I do hope and believe he 
sees a something about us that leads him to fear the thing 
won't do. 

Now, while my reader is playing with the Major by 
seeing a horse out (for in our case the play is in our 
hands,) I will just reconnoitre a little, and first take a peep 
into the corn-bin. I will bet a "pony'' I find a few oats 
in a sack: right; it is so; and a few cobwebs in the corner 
of the bin — very unlike horses having stood here the last 
two years! Any signs of carriages having been here late- 
ly? No: no recent signs of occupation. — Harness? no; 
but there is half a truss of hay. In the stable is one sad- 
dle, a good one, and a bridle for the Major, or any one 
wishing to try a horse, and another for the Major to ac- 
company the gentleman, besides a side-saddle, to show the 
mare had been used to carry a lady. The make of the 
latter shows me, or rather awakes my suspicions, that no 
woman of fortune would use it, and that consequently the 
beautiful dark brown mare never carried it. As a guide 
to this, I take the liberty of looking at the pannel, when 
(th3 Major was not awake here) I find chestnut hairs on it. 
Quite satisfied, I shall now join my reader, who I find 



265 

Enjoying the Major's distrustful appreciation of him, and 
his fear that the hoaxer in this case is the party hoaxed. 
I now cast an eye on the beautiful lady's mare, and no 
great judgment is probably required to cast an eye on the 
whereahouls the screw is loose. JVIajor perceives at once 
the game is up, and says, " Perhaps, gentlemen, you have 
seen enough of the mare.'' As far as our powers in the 
laconic avail us, we jointly Call them up for his service, 
and the " Quite enough. Major," is quite enough for him. 
He finds that for this turn he is, as he would say, down 
upon his luck; and now " vamos por Dios," cry 1, or per- 
haps this Don may give us a few "vivas" of the wrong 
sort. 

I have now given my reader positive proof of a system 
of which I had only before apprized him by words. I 
trust he will be very careful (from what he has seen) how 
he ever attends to such horse-advertisements, and that 
when he does (or if he does,) he has got a few hints that 
may be useful to him. In return, I only beg his best in- 
dulgence for my humble etibrts to interest him in what I 
may in future submit to his perusal. 

We will conclude that Major is not always so truly un- 
fortunate in his customers as he was in our case, but that 
he finds some one to buy either the valuable mare or one 
of the grays. What then? In a day or two the purchaser 
of course finds out the secret, or is told of it; and as he is 
minus some seventy or eighty pounds, he seeks Major for 
a restitution of it: he finds the stables, no doubt, but all he 
can learn of Major is, "'they wish they may get him," for 
he left without paying for the hire of them. But if it is 
supposed that he has for one moment balanced in his mind 
the separate advantages of an emigration to North Canada, 
the United States, New Zealand, or Australia, it is doing 
him great injustice: the iNIajor is no recreant, not he. If 
the purchaser will only have patience for a week or so, I 
dare say I can put him on his drag; but even then, he 
has so many well knawn earths open, it would be difficult 
to run in to him: and suppose one didy fingers worse bit- 
ten would be the only result: birt if the finding him is 
really wished, the following will point out our line of 
country to the " meet." 
23 



2^<> "OCH, MUKrilY DELA>iY's A BROTH OF A BOY/' 

"To be sold, the property of a gentleman, the following: 
superior hunters, that have been regularly hunted with the 
Kilkenny and Garrison hounds. — (a fresh one, as a head- 
ing.) 

" 1. A bay gelding, by Napoleon, dam by Ivanboe; equal 
to great weight. 

" 2.. A gray gelding (Mem, the gray gelding now a hun- 
ter,) by Freney, dam by Master Robert; remarkably hand- 
some, and a splendid fencer. 

" S. A brown mare (our old friend,) by Blacklock, dam 
by Welcome. — This mare, from her magnificent fencing and 
racing speed, would make a ti|>top steeple-chaser. 

"4. One of the best 16-stone covert hacks in this king- 
dom. — [Mem. Cobby.) 

" The above are all sound, and the owner can be treated 
with. To be seen at his stables. Red Lion Yard, (some) 
Street, Bloomsbury:" — or, perhaps, Golden Square, for 
such places are some of the haunts of these advertising gen- 
tlemen. 

Tally ho ! Go hark together t hark together! hark f that's 
it! the hunted fox for a thousand! "Oh, the top of the 
morning to you, major," for it's him sure enough, but now 
plain Mr. O'Reilly * with just a teste of the brogue and lots 
of the blarney. Faith, Major, you do it iligant ! But now, 
having found him — cui bono? You could get nothing 
from him but his skin, and that you are not allowed to 
take; He will prove these horses are not his, so all you 
could do would be to send or get him sent to prison — 
mind, you paying for the gratification of so doing, if you 
can do it. The gratification, however, at best would be 
but small, and his chagrin would be also small : he would be 
quite at home there, and get indulgences that some poor 
fellow, sent there for purloining a loaf for a famishing fa- 
mily,, would not have money or interest with the worthy 
functionaries in charge of him to obtain. 

Biit let any sensible man look at this advertisement, and 
reflect a moment, he may save himself the trouble of go- 
ing: the incongruity of the thing must strike him. Is it 
likely a gentleman who had been hunting with the Kil- 
kenny and Garrison hounds vvoultl bring horses from 
vvhere they were known to London, whei-e they are not? 



THE BUSYBODY, 267 

The members of those hunts, and the gentlemen who hunt 
with them, must have changed their nature very much from 
what they ever have been, if they let really good hunters 
escape them. ']'hen,of all peaces, Bloomsbury! If I wanted 
an attorney — I might look there for him: or, if I wishe<:l to 
find a piano or dancing-master, (a cheap one,) hot roll«,Gr 
(now) hot potatoes, I miiiht go to the purlieus about Gold- 
en Square for them ; but for a hunter, I should as soon look 
for a zebra at Almack's. Yet people do go! Well, it's all 
the same to me whether they go or not : but they will not 
find it all the same to them. 

We have seen quite enough of these sort of gentry; but 
really the ramifications from their genealogical stem are so 
varied and extensive, that I really believe all the honest 
men in England could stand under the shade of one of these 
noble denizens of their forest^ and here comes a collateral 
branch. 

This is one of those meddling sort of gentlemen to be 
found in London, and particularly in every provincial town 
in England where the horse trade is carried on extensively 
enough to make it worth their residence. We will call 
this gentleman Mr. Meddler, and a mighty meddling trou- 
blesome fellow he is, a perfect pest to dealers and reposi- 
tories, about whose stables he is always to be found more 
or less. Now, w^hether Mr. Meddler designates himself 
an agent, or what, 1 do not know, so I will call him a peri- 
patetic salesman. His business (or at least what he makes 
his business) is, to know the appearance, qualifications, and 
price of every horse standing in a dealer's stable, or in those 
of any public establishment for sale; and this by hook or 
by crook he will know, how much soever the master of 
either stable may wish to prevent him. But he knows a 
great deal more than this; for he makes himself acquainted 
with every horse for sale in the neighbourhood, and also 
with every person wanting to purchase one for any given 
purpose; so that he can very often, nay generally (if he 
chooses to do so,) find a horse a master, and a master a 
horse, to suit each other. Now^ tiiis looks like a very use- 
ful fellow; jnais le vrai ii^cst pas toujours Ic vraisem- 
blable; nor is this very useful fellow on the whole so great 
an acquisition to a town as some people think him, If his 



g68 EATING UNNECESSARY (fOR THE POOR.) 

business consisted in saving people the trouble of looking 
for horses by informing them where such a horse or horses 
as they want are to be found, he would be a useful man, 
^nd no one would grudge him his guinea for his trouble (if 
they chose to employ him;) but he does not wait for this; 
he will have a feeling in every horse for sale in the town 
find neighbourhood, or he will use every exertion in his 
power to prevent its being bought, however good he may 
be. Having a hand in the sale of a horse is his bread, con- 
sequently it is his interest to prevent any one being sold 
jn which he has not a feeling. 

I forget now upon what occasion it was, but when Cardi- 
nal Richelieu was once personally examining some unfor- 
tunate fellow touching some treasonable practices he had 
been guilty of, he asked him what had induced him to 
venture on such things? Now the Cardinal was not the 
most urbane or just the sort of rrjan one would by choice 
select to be examined by on such an occasion, nor was the 
milk of human kindness so redundant in his composition 
that there was any chance of its overflowing; and thus, 
forming (a second) milky way. The poor culprit knew 
this: so without any circumlocution, plainly and simply 
Replied, as his only ej^cuse, ''Monsieur, ilfaut manp;er!^^ 
This to some men would have been at least an extenuation, 
and the force of the homely argument would have been 
allowed. Not so the Cardinal: "«/e ?^'e/^ vols pas la ne- 
cessile,^^ says he. Cool, one would say, and by no means 
flattering: but the Cardinal, like horse-dealers, had little 
ways of his own, not the most agreeable to those who 
ofiended him; and I doubt not could look grim enough in 
his fooFs cap. Not beidg particular, I must say I should 
prefer an evening's assignation with a WhXq chaperon fouge 
we have seen of later date. 

Now Mr. Meddler considers it is quite necessary to eat, 
though the Cardinal did not; and eat he will, and well too, 
whoever pays for it. It may be wondered how such a man 
gets the sway he does in these things; but it is easily ac- 
counted for. In London his powers are very limited, there 
being such a host of horses and customers that he can know 
but a small proportion of either, and strangers are constantly 
coming in; but in provincial towns he knows every body. 



TAKING CAKE OF NUMBER ONE. 269 

and every body knows him, as well as they do the market- 
place; should any stranger arrive, Meddler's modesty will 
not prevent him making his acquaintance and volunteering 
his services; nor does he sufi'er a fresh horse or two to enter 
the town without ascertaining all about them. Thus it is 
seen that nothing of this sort can stir without his know- 
ledge. Every one who knows him knows this, and there- 
fore applies to him for information and assistance, both of 
which he can afford, and will if he is paid for it. This is 
all fair enough we will say — "the labourer is worthy of 
his hire,'' is an old saying, and quite a true one if we ap- 
portion the hire to the services he renders us; but I will 
show where Mr. Meddler frequently is not worthy of his 
hire. 

We will suppose any one had applied to him to find him 
n horse of a certain sort for a certain purpose. Meddler 
knows one or two, as the case may be, exactly suited to 
the purpose. Now the horse being so is certainly a con- 
sideration with Meddler, but a very secondary one. The 
first is, to whom does the horse belong, and will he pay 
him for selling him for him as much as he pleases to think 
he ought to get? If "yes," the purchaser is immediately 
taken to both horse and owner: if "no," he will not be 
taken ; but, on the contrary, if another, who Meddler knows 
will pay, has a horse not half so well adapted to the pur- 
chas^'r's views, to him he will be taken; for, mind, being 
well paid by one party will not suit Meddler: no, he must 
be paid by both, and paid well. His business therefore is 
to take his employer where he can do the best for himself, 
not where he can do best for the employer; and thus he is 
not always the safest gentleman in the world to trust to. 
I have rarely employed one of these meddlers, preferring, 
as Listen said, to "mix for myself." Many people know 
to what this refers, but as many do not, I will mention it. 

Before Liston got so high in point of engagements as he 
afterwards most deservedly did, he had his daily penny- 
worth of milk taken. This got at last so very rich of the 
water that Liston could stand it no longer; so next morn- 
ing he made his appearance at the door with two small jugs 
in his hand; the milkman, supposing he wanted an extra 
allowance for some purpose, filled the one with t!ie usual 

23* 



270 TOO MUCH OF THE PURE ELEMENT. 

quantity, and was preparing to fill the second, "No," says 
Liston, "I have brought that for the water; now take back 
this mixture, and give me half in quantity of milk; I will 
mix in future for myself." Now, like Liston, whenever 
I have applied to a meddler, although 1 paid him for his 
time, I still choose to "mix for myself." I perfectly well 
knew it would depend on circumstances as to what horses 
he might choose to inform n.e of, and well know he would 
not tell me of every hort^e he thought I should like: still he 
would tell me of some, and thus save me trouble, and as I 
never should be guided by what he said, he could do no 
harm. I made use of him, as they say the lion does of the 
jackal ; but after he had found the quarry, I always begged 
him to stand aloof, and leave me to decide how far it might 
suit my appetite. He maj' (properly appreciated) be made 
a useful scout, but he is not to be trusted as a counsellor. 
Thus much for private individuals employing meddlers; 
let us see how far they atfect dealers. 

As I have in other places said, the ill word of any igno- 
ramus or malevolent fellow used against a dealer or his 
horse is sure to be given implicit credit to, and many a 
good horse is lost by people attending to such fellows. If 
Sir. Meddler would content himself with taking any person 
to a dealer's yard when he knew he had a horse in his 
stables to suit the customer, the dealer would of course be 
very happy to see him, and would pay him handsomely 
for his trouble: but there is something in forced interference 
repugnant to one's feelings, even when no harm is meant. 
I think a pheasant kept to a day, and done to a turn, a capi- 
tal thing: biit I know I should kick confoundedly if a man 
attempted to ram a leg down my throaty drum-stick and 
all; so, though the dealer would willingly pay any meddler 
for what he sold for him, he does not wish to give him the 
command over all the horses in his stable, and a feeling in 
every one sold from them: but this is w^hat Meddler wants, 
and therefore will, and does, in some way abuse every horse 
attempted to be sold without his interference: in fact, he 
wants to trade on the dealer's capital, and have a certain 
share in the profits of each horse, though on an average he 
is only the means of selling one in ten. The consequence 
would virtually be, that the dealer must w^ait till Mr. Med- 



GUTTING IN AND CUTTING OUT, I^Vl 

tiler sold his horses for him, or give him a feeling in any 
one he takes the unwarrantable liberty of selling himself. 
Bravo, Mr. Meddler! a very modest way of constituting a 
little partnership, for it amounts to that. This I rather 
think is a little more than the dcakr can afford: it is an 
attempt to make him swallow the pheasant's leg with a 
vengeance! But if he refuses so large a morsel, he may 
fully calculate on Meddler's using his most strenuous efforts 
to (as he would term it) choke off every customer that 
enters the yard. One plan would be this. I have said he 
is always hanging about to see what is going forward: he 
is not always seen in the yard; but is enough there to know 
every horse in it, and somewhere about his price. Well! 
he sees a gentleman looking at one there. Knowing the 
horse, he knows at once the description of animal wanted: 
he does not of course openly interfere in this case, or even 
suffer himself to be seen if he can prevent it: he has had a 
glimpse of the horse from the street, and that is enough for 
him. The gentleman leaves the yard: if he has so closed 
the bargain as to be unable to be off it, or, as Meddler says, 
to be choked off, Mr. Meddler has lost his chance: but werj 
probably the customer may not have quite done this: my 
life on it Meddler trots after him. "Beg your pardon, sir, 

1 saw you looking at a horse in 's yard. I know 

the horse very well; he was bought (so and so:) I don't 
wisii to interfere, I'm sure, bii^t I know a horse would suit 
you exactly: he belongs to a private Gentleman" (or 
Tradesman, as the case may be.) He takes the customer 
to see the horse or others, if he can persuade him to do so: 
in fact, having got hold of him, he never leaves him if he 
can help it; and thus takes a customer from the dealer, and, 
farther, secures one for himself. Thus are these sneaks 
the bane of dealers. It is true they may order Mr. Med- 
dler not to enter their yard; but then, in certain situations, 
by making such a man an enemy, his tongue can (and it 
will not be his fault if it does not) do an incredible deal of 
mischief; so the dealer is forced to bear the nuisance, and 
manage as well as he can, by from time to time throwing 
a sop to these Cerberi. 

At fairs you will be sure to find Meddler: he is either 
taken there by, or goes to meet, some dealer from a dis- 



2t2 IF YOU PLAY WITH A CAT, BEWARE OP IlER CLAWS. 

tance: the dealer is aware Meddler knows the horses of 
value, or at least a great part of them, likel}^ to be there. 
Here he is useful, for he saves the dealer trouble and time, 
and can probably give him the history of many he looks 
at. Here he does not make it a sine qua non to be paid 
by boih parties, though in most cases he contrives to be 
so; for the dealer buying a number makes the day's work 
a good one to Meddler, supposing he only got what he 
gives him, and he would be afraid to pla}^ tricks with this 
employer; for though this dealer, not having suffered at 
home by Mr. Meddler's interference, is very good friends 
with him, and treats him to his dinner and bottle of wine, 
he knows how to appreciate him, and mostly uses him 
as a useful tool that he knows dare not turn its edge on 
him. 

At Repositories and public auctions Meddler is again 
met. To a Repository lie is a positive curse, for the 
owner of it must either pay him, or he will indiscriminately 
abuse everi/ horse thci-e, for these of all places Meddler 
detests the most. The dealer is culpable enough in his 
eyes for presuming to sell a certain number of horses with- 
out him : what then must be his absolute loathing of a place 
where such numbers are sold without him? He hates its 
very walls; he knows he cannot be always paid here, for 
it would look rather odd to any person, on being paid for 
a horse sold there, to find, in addition to the regular com- 
mission, an item, "Paid Mr. Meddler 2/. commission." 
The customer might be uncourteous enough to say, "Who 
is Mr. Meddler?" The owner of the Repository might 
feelingly enough say, " Why, he is the devil:" but I do 
not think this w^ould satisfy the customer. We shall, I 
am sorry to say, have occasion to mention Mr. Meddler 
again, as I now propose to do mj'self the honour of intro- 
ducing my reader to Repositories. 

I have been obliged, in accordance Vv^Ith what I proposed 
in commencing these Hints on Horse Dealers in general, 
to dwell for some time on the acts and habits of the low- 
est of the low, and to carry the thing out, to quote 
their sentiments, language, and expressions. I fear the 
task is not yet quite complete: it will, therefore (if 
gnly for a time,) be a relief to get into a respectable place, 



NOT SO BLACK AS HIS NEIGHBOUR. 273 

and to meet a respectable man. I shall therefore begin by- 
taking my reader to Osborn's — " Harry Osborn's." 

We may be now supposed to have arrived at a spot 
where we have Gray's Inn, Verulam Buildings, with sun- 
dry other buildings and courts (all inhabited by gentle- 
men of the law,) to our right — (quite right to leave them 
there) and the Repository on our left. Some person may 
say that I have brought my reader into a very pretty dilem- 
ma; for, turn which side he may, he has a very fair 
chance of being done. What might be the result of turn- 
ing to the right I cannot say ; but by taking the other 
turn, I will answer for his coming out unscathed. Besides, 
there is another thing to be considered : if he should not 
like this place, he need not go there again — a seqxdtur 
not always to be relied on by those who pay a visit to 
the other. ^^ In medio tutissimus ihis^^ they say: now, 
if we did this, we should run plump into a brewery; and 
really I am not certain, that, if v/e were tempted to take a 
solution of cocciihisindicus, it would be altogether so safe 
an alternative. " Quanll vivono in questo monclo alle spicie di 
questo e di quello /" This may be applied to all three 
places; so we will at once turn into Osborn's. 

Reader, do you see that elderly person in a plain frock- 
coat, with a pair of shoes, or boots, whose soles would 
create wonder even with a Folkstone fisherman? That 
is Mr. Henry Osborn — in the vocabulary of his old cus- 
tomers, and many very old customers he has, "Harry Os- 
born" — by whom, if your appearance and address proclaim 
you a gentleman, I will answer for it you will be received 
with the deference due to your rank in life; or if they de- 
note your being merely a respectable man, you will be 
treated with the attention and civility due to a customer. 
^{Mein. no light blue satin cravats worn; no champagne 
talked about, tliough a bottle might be routed out on occa- 
sion.) — Osborn does not call himself a gentleman; but, I 
tell you what, he vv'ill very soon judge whether his custo- 
mer is one or not. 

I think I am justified in calling this the first commission 
stable in England, for two reasons — I believe Osborn was 
the first who devoted himself exclusively to this branch 
of the horse trade, and that he has in this way sold more 



■214: HONEST MEASURES, 

horses than any other man in existence. I am not going to 
write a panegyric on Mr. Osborn: but so far as I know of 
him — and 1 knew him, and he sold horses for me, and to 
me, when I was a mere boy — I can only say, were I in 
London, and w^anted a horse, to him /should go; and I be- 
lieve, greatly to his credit be it said, the greater part of his 
old customers who have left him have left the world also. 

Having shown my reader a Repository where I consi- 
der the business is carried on as fairly as the nature of that 
business will allow — for, in road phrase, a little ^^ shouldcr- 
mg" will creep into the best regulated Repositories — I will 
endeavour to show what might be done in one where a 
man intends to do. 

All persons who are not amateurs of horses are much 
more suspicious of those whose business lies in that way 
than those who are; but, unluckily, their suspicions are 
«eldom directed to the righ.t point: so, not knowing what 
to guard against, these suspicions do them no good. The 
chief apprehensions I have heard people express in send- 
ing a horse to a commission stable for sale are, first, that 
he will be cheated of his proper feeding; and, secondly, 
that the owner of the stables will keep the horse unsold 
for the advantage he derives from the livery expenses. 
Nothing can be more futile or groundless (in a general 
way) than both these apprehensions ; not from any honesty 
on the part of the owner or his subordinates, where either 
or both are inclined to be tricky, but from other causes. 
With respect to the feeding: this is done by the foreman, 
who, in large establishments, generally goes at the regular 
feeding hours with a corn-barrow to the different stables: 
here he gives to the man or men, according to the number 
of horses, a feed for each. Thus the foreman cannot cheat 
the horses without the knowledge of the strappers; and he 
values his berth too much to put himself in their power; 
for if he did, he would soon become under them instead of 
their being under him. As he dare not keep back corn 
for his own advantage, you may depend upon it he would 
not do so for that of his master, unless directed by him 
to that effect: and this he would not be, for then he would 
have it in his power to expose his employer. So, even 
supposing the whole lot- — master, foreman, and strappers — 



PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH. 275 

io be rogues, llie fear of each other in this particular keeps 
them honest. Now the strappers — the generality of whom 
1 give full credit for being quite disposed to pillage both 
master and customer if they can do so with impunity — if 
they could carry the corn home in lieu of giving it to the 
horses, there is little doubt but they would do so: but the 
horses are seen feeding by other eyes, as well as those of 
the man directly in charge of them; so he must give theni 
their feed: and supposing he did crib a portion from each^ 
oats are a bulky article in proportion to their value, and 
could not be conveyed away in any quantity. A few to 
feed a rabbit or hen or two is the most that could be got 
off: and supposing this done, the quantity taken from six 
or seven horses could never affect them. The customer 
has another guarantee against his horse not getting his feed- 
ing. These helpers alwavs look to getting some little re- 
ward if a horse is sold or taken away, provided he looks 
as if he had had justice done him ; and this they are quite 
sure they will not get if he looks the reverse: so, depend 
on it, they would be more likely to rob their master of his 
corn than your horse. There is one way in which he may 
come off second best; but if he does, it is your fault; so I 
give you a hint that may be useful. 

If you are known as one w^ho gives a shilling, or not 
any thing, where half-a-crown would be advantao;;eously 
given to a helper, so sure as your horse is a horse half his 
oats will be cribbed from him and given to that of some 
one who pays properly. Pay properly, and you need be 
under no fear of any want of attention to your horse. 
Under all circumstances, pay servants, not lavishly, but 
liberall}' : it is not only justice, but econom}^ in the long 
run. 1 have never been in the habit of keeping horses at 
livery unless for a day or two, or if sent for sale; but whe- 
ther in these cases or at inns (where I was known) I 
alvvays found my horses made as comfortable as in their 
own stables, whatever other people's mi2:;ht be. Even a 
shilling exlra will do this, and it is a very cheap mode of 
preventing coughs, colds, and cracked heels. 

Now for the other apprehension, of a iiorse being kept 
unsold for the sake of his livery. This is a thing rarely 
done; but when he is so kept, it is for a much more ras- 



V*- 



276 THE DANGER OF GIVING AN OPINION. 

cally purpose than the paltry consideration supposed. No, 
no; if you are intended to be robbed, depend on it it will 
be done to a much larger tune than a few oats, or the five 
or six shillings per week profit on the livery. 

We will suppose a person has been unfortunate enough 
to send a horse to a Repository for private sale where the 
master (who we will call Mr. Nickem) is as great a rogue 
as you could desire: of course, the result would depend a 
great deal on who sent him there, and how far he knew 
and was known to understand how to guard against any 
tricks that might be wished to be played him. We 
will, however, suppose in this case the horse to be sent by 
some one knowing about as much of Nickem's i)ractices 
as the generality of persons do of those of many of tJie 
Repositories for the private sale of horses. In large pro- 
vincial towns there is also often a weekly sale by auction: 
now this is really a very great convenience, as it affords 
the seller the choice of being done privately or publicly, 
and effectually by either mode. 

But before I proceed farther with Mr. Nickem and his 
Repository, I must make a little digression, in order to 
answer two more observations I have heard made as com- 
plaints against the owners of Repositories; for let every 
man have justice at all events. The one is, that 'you cai? 
never get them to tell you what they think your horse is 
worth or likely to bring: the other, that they will not tell 
to whom the horses or any particular horse belongs that 
may be standing with them for sale. This, 1 grant, looks 
like a want of candid, fair, and straightforward conduct; in 
fact, looks like a little hocus-pocus, that causes suspicion 
with the inquirer. It is quite true that the observation is 
a correct one; and equally so, that, till it is explained, it 
has a very suspicious look. Doubtless this concealment is 
frequently made for nefarious purposes, but not always: in 
fact, except in particular cases it is- necessary, and that ne- 
cessity arises more from the fault of the customer than the 
salesman. 

We will suppose a gentleman takes a horse to show any 
owner of a Repository: we will suppose the owner values 
him (as a middling price) at sixty: he asks Mr. — what 
be thinks the horse is vvorth: we will just see the predica- 



CANDOUR SOMETIMES INJUDICIOUS. 277 

ment Mr. — would put himself in if he gave his opinion. 
If he stated that he considered the horse worth more than 
the owner did, the latter would be afterwards disappointed, 
and consider himself ill-used if on farther inspection it was 
found the hoi*se would not bring that sum; indeed, he 
would most probably consider some chicanery had been 
used towards him: and if, on the contrary, the salesman 
valued him at less than the owner (and which in most 
cases he might very fairly do,) he would be set down either 
as a bad judge or a rogue; and very probably the owner 
would at once ride away, hoping to find a more promising 
market. Now, though a good judge will go very near the 
mark as to the value of a young sound fresh horse in a 
fair, it is not generally this description of horse that is sent 
to a Repository: on the contrary, they are mostly horses 
that have been »sed, and their value depends chiefly on 
their merits: consequently a horse of this sort may, when 
he co-mes to be ridden or driven, be worth ten or twenty 
pounds- more or less than he looks when merely a cursory 
glance is taken of him. If a horse looking worth we will 
say forty pounds is found an mounting him to go away 
(in stable phrase) with his knee up, can trat at the rate of 
fifteen or sixteen miles an hour, and goes over the stones 
as safe and firm as on the high road, such a hack is worth 
a hundred to many people, and would bring it: whereas, 
if, on the contrary, he went shoving his feet along as if he 
was trying whether the stones were slippery or not, twenty 
pounds and a cart is his value and place: in fact, there are 
many who, like me, would not accept him as a gift. This 
is not to be ascertained by a horse being merely rode up 
to a stable door; though a keen eye will form an opinion 
even by this, and probably will be to a great extent cor- 
rect. But we are not to suppose that any man will take 
the trouble to try your horse merely for the pleasure of 
giving you his opinion of him, and which would very 
likely be that he is a brute. It might be very candid to 
tell you so, but it would not be business, and, tell it as 
civilly as such a thing could be told, the only consequence 
and thanks that would arise would be, the horse would not 
be left for sale; and a man cannot afford to pay two or 
three hundred a-year for premises merely to show yow 
24 



278 SOME FOLKS MAY BE TOO WELL KNOWN, 

how candid he is. In nineteen cases out of twenty, there- 
fore, a man is quite justified in declining to value a horse 
brought to him for sale. The owner ought to know his 
value: if he does not, when he comes to be shown to the 
public, that will very shortly enlighten him in this parti- 
cular; for though this man or that may not be a judge of 
such matters, the public is, and a very good one. 

Novv we will see wh}^ it would be injudicious to state to 
whom horses for sale belong. Owners very frequently do 
not wish this to be done, for various reasons; but if they 
did, and the salesman was to tell this, the consequence 
would be, what I dare say the generality of persons never 
dreamt of — he would be lucky if he got his commission on 
hdlf the horses he sold. It may be said that gentlemen 
will not be guilty of ungentlemanlike acts. To this doc- 
trine on a broad scale I fully subscribe; but I must also say 
there are a great many who will. Resides this, all the 
horses sent to a Repository are not sent by gentlemen, nor 
are they all gentlemen who treat for them : consequently, 
unless a salesman knows his customer very well, injustice 
to himself he must take care that he does not give the op- 
portunity for such things taking place with him. I will 
answer for it that Osborn would tell me (and doubtless 
many others of his customers if we chose to ask him) to 
whom any horse belonged, unless desired not to do so: nay 
farther, if I wished to purchase a horse in his stables, and 
more was asked for him than I thought he was worth, he 
would tell me, (for he has done it) — ^ I am not authorized 
to take less than 1 ask you; but he belongs to Mr. So-and- 
so: if you like to go to him, you may, and if he chooses to 
take less, I can have no objection." But before he would 
do this, he would know his customer, and feel quite cer- 
tain no mean advantage would be taken. Depend on it he 
would not do this by a stranger; and, what is more, would 
take still greater precaution in doing it to many he does 
know. 

It seems very natural a man should wish to learn all he 
can of a horse he wishes to buy; and this induces many 
persons who do not intend any unfairness to ask to whom 
he belongs — not by-the-by that I consider the owner as a 
certain source of correct information on the subject; in 



A DIRTY TRICK. 279 

many cases quite the reverse: still, to get to the owner 
seems to many persons the great desideratum, forgetting, 
that if the salesman's interest in selling a horse is three 
pounds, probably in point of convenience or money the 
owner's is three times as much: consequently, he has three 
times as much interest in deceiving the buyer; and if a 
purchaser expects an owner to tell him the faults or any 
faults of his horse, he expects a great deal more than I 
should. 

This, however, does not explain how a salesman is likely 
to suffer by being, as the purchaser would wish, candid; 
but the following case does. A. finds out by some means 
that a horse standing at a Repository belongs to B. A. 
has been asked, say fifty pounds; away he posts to B. tells 
him he has been looking at his horse, and is disposed to 
buy him; that he has offered thirty-five, which has been 
refused. Now if the salesman had sold the horse at forty, 
B. would have, received thirty -eight, so A. and B. lay their 
heads together, and conclude the bargain by B. taking 
thirty-seven. This is only one pound less than he would 
have got had the horse been sold by the salesman at forty: 
so the liberal pair concoct this little arrangement between 
them. B. sends for his horse home; of course says nothing 
of his being sold: merely pays for keep, and thus, although 
he was sold through the connexion of the salesman, and 
from being seen and shown at his establishment, he is thus 
done out of his commission. I hope, nay I do not doubt, 
there are many who would think that few such underhand 
fellows as A. and B. are to be met with: this is, however, 
very wide of the fact: for the truth is, not only are A. and 
B. to be met with, but we may go on to L., and find per- 
sonality to answer to each letter. This, being about the 
middle of the alphabet, brings it to what I say, that by let- 
ting buyers and sellers meet, the salesman would lose half 
his commission: so the man is obliged to give ambiguous 
and evasive answers to prevent himself suffering from the 
meanness and avarice of those from whom one might ex- 
pect at least fairness of conduct: but so in truth it is. 

Another trick is sometimes played a salesman. Some 
fellow, half dealer and half gentleman, brings three or four 
horses to a Repository for sale : he takes care to ask such a 



S80 SCANNING A NEW FACE. 

price for his horses, that it is next to impossible for the 
salesman to sell them at it. If he does happen to do so, 
well and good: in that case he would get his commission; 
indeed, he could not be kept out of it: but at any thing like 
a fair price he will not; for it is managed in this way. 
The owner, or his man, are one or the other constantly by 
the side of the horses ; consequently not one can be shown 
without those worthies knowing all about it. The horse 
is liked, but the price asked by the salesman precludes his 
being sold by him. But the owner gets at the gentleman, 
who of course does not trouble himself about the salesman's 
commission, and thus buys the horse of the owner, who 
agrees to bring him to the purchaser's stable ; he gets paid 
for him ; and here again the salesman is done. If the owner 
thinks there is a probability of his being found out at this, 
all he does is to take his other horses somewhere else; so 
even Nickem is done sometimes. It may be said no one 
pities him^ nor do I, for he does other people often enough; 
but it accounts for why a salesman, whether a rogue or a re- 
spectable man, evades letting people into the knowledge of 
to whom horses belong; and this is all I intended to do. 

We will now return to the supposed case of a horse 
being sent to Nickem to sell. The reader must bear in 
mind that vye are now sending him to a man who, from the 
moment any horse comes into his clutches, sets out with 
the determination to get all that can fairly or unfairly be 
got out of him for his own benefit; and to do Nickem 
justice, he is no petty-larceny rogue ; he will not descend 
to rob your horse, though he will ascend pretty high in the 
scale of ingenuity to rob you. Now there is no great in- 
genuity in robbing in a common vulgar way ; but to rob so 
as to avoid suspicion, and even to induce your victim to 
return and be robbed again, requires no little tact, and this 
is Nickem'sybr/e. 

If (which is the general mode) a horse is sent to a re- 
pository by a servant, with a note stating his particulars 
and price, the first thing Nickem does is to cast an eye on 
him, to judge a little what degree of trouble he is worth ; 
that is, not whether he is to be treated better or worse, but 
what quantum of chicanery it seems probable it will 
be worth while to employ against him, or rather his 



BOXING THE NEW COMER. 281 

master. If a common twenty or twenty-five pound brute 
that is about worth the money asked and no more, he is 
merely put up in the stable, takes his chance of sale (and 
he really gets a chance,) for Nickem would say of him, in 
reference to his not coming in for his share of roguery, 
about the same as the man affectionately said to his wife, 
who fondly remarked the difference of his conduct to that 
of his neighbour, who thrashed his rib about three times a 
week, " I do not think you worth it !" 

We will, however, suppose the horse brought to be a 
clever nag, and eighty is asked for him: Nickem thinks 
this a price he can get for him ; he by no means, however, 
intends to do so; that is, while the horse belongs to the 
present owner, and here is a case where a horse will 
be purposely kept unsold, though not for the advantage of 
his livery profits. No ; if Nickem can get him himself, 
by nominally selling him to some coadjutor for sixty, he 
expects to make twenty ; if for fifty, thirty ; and of course, 
if he is to be had for forty, just that sum would go into 
Nickem's pocket short what he may be forced to give 
his friend if he employs one : if not, he pouches the whole. 
Now this is better than livery, or saving a bushel of oats 
worth three shillings; and men have been placed in such 
situations, by a regularly concerted plot, as to be willing 
to take such a reduction as forty in eighty, ay, and will 
again, and thank Nickem too for the trouble he has taken. 
*' The horse has been unlucky certainly," says the owner, 
" and I lose a great deal of money by him ; but neither you 
nor I can help that." Certainly the owner cannot; but I 
rather opine Nickem could have helped it, and by not 
doing so has /ze/j?;eG? himself pretty handsomely. 

\\ ith such a horse, on his arrival the first thing to be 
done is to get him out of sight till Nickem has privately 
thoroughl}' overhauled him. This is very easily done by 
putting him in a box : two men are immediately set about 
him, clothes and bandages brought, lots of warm water, &:c. 
The groom, on going home, represents all this, and Mr. 
Nickem's having ordered him into a "capital box after his 
journey." The master is of course j)leased with this. — 
'•It was very careful and attentive of Mr. Nickem!" — 
Very I This is the beginning of slaving "the innocents." 

24^ 



282 DOING THINGS COMFORTABLY. 

The horse being put up, groom gets half-a-crown to get 
his glass of brandy-and-water after his journey; so he is 
made comfortable, as well as his horse ; and as by this 
time the nagsman and he have become acquainted, he goes 
to make himself comfortable also ; and while they are 
doing this, nagsman, (who does not want to be told his 
business,) sucks the groom's brains, and learns all he knows 
about the horse, and any others in his master's stables. — 
There is then a considerable shaking of hands, groom takes 
his saddle on his back, goes off by coach, and the horse 
is left like a boy at school, the difference being, however, 
that the boy often learns very little, whereas the horse will 
learn a good deal : the master also (if not in the higher 
branches of education) will get a lesson so far as pounds, 
shillings, and pence go. The coast being now clear, the 
next morning, before any customer comes in, Nickem has 
the horse out, sees his paces, examines him minutely as to 
soundness, and gets the nagsman on him ; if a hunting-like 
horse, or represented as one, sees him over a fence or two, 
and the bar, and also in his gallop : if he is stated to be a 
harness-horse, he sees him in that: if he is not so repre-. 
sented, but he considers as a harness-horse he would sell 
well, he has him carefully tried. Even his behaviour while 
the harness is being put on will show to an experienced 
eye how far he is likely to go quiet: if he seems good^ 
tempered, he is just put into a break; a hundred yards 
suffices : Nickem now knows what the master does not, 
namely, whether he is likely to make a harness-horse. — 
This in some horses puts on or takes off twenty, perhaps 
thirty pounds in their value ; and this is all done without 
any exposure to servants. True enough, they know quite 
well what game is going on, but their place is too good to 
lose by talking: and if they did, what could they say farther 
than that "master had tried the horse in every way !" If 
even the owner caught the horse under this trial, a lie would 
be ready cut and dried for him : Ude could not turn out an 
omelette aux fines herbes half as quickly as Nickem could 
a dozen plats of well-dried, highly-spiced, and seasoned 
fibs: "'tis his vocation, Hal!" "He was seeing him. in 
harness for a match for a gentleman wlio would buy him in 
a minute if he seemed likely to take to harness :" or, if he 



PUTTING OUT A FEELER. 283 

was being leaped, Nickem " intends to write offimmed lately 
to a customer now he can safely say the horse leaps well : 
he always wishes to sell gentlemen's horses as soon as pos- 
sible, so he likes to see what they can do : he can then take 
upon himself to recommend them." This the owner can- 
not deny is very fair, proper, and indeed conscientious in 
Nickem. Very ! 

Nickem having learnt pretty nearly all he wants about 
the horse, he must now learn all he can about the gentle- 
man, and see how far he is likely to go quietly or be ob- 
streperous in the harness he intends to put on him. He 
plies him as to price. Probably Nickem's opinion is asked, 
and possibly his advice. This advice will of course be 
given as best suits his own interest. Before, however, he 
gives in this opinion or advice, he puts in a feeler some- 
thing in this way : — -" Why, sir, the price to be taken of 
^course remains with you, and depends a good deal upon 
whether you wish the horse sold as soon as possible, or 
whether you are disposed to hold out for price, as in that 
case we must wait till the right customer comes; and also 
whether you are determined not to sell under a certain 
price ; or whether )^ou have any objection to him, and are 
determined not to take him back : but in either case, you 
know, sir, it is my interest to get the most I can, for the 
more you get, the more I get ; so it is the interest of both 
to get the most we can." — " Humph .'"-^ — [Mem. I say 
Jiumph :) — the owner said, " Of course, Mr. Nickem." 

Now this said feeler, with the acute sensibility of touch 
that Nickem has, brings out more than enough to show 
him the present determination of the owner. I S2.y jo resent, 
because a few days and a fevv tricks very often alter these 
sort of determinations amazingl3^ Of course various means 
are employed to bring this about, varying according to 
circumstances. In this case, we will suppose a medium 
kind of determination in the seller. Nickem has persuaded 
him he ought to take less than he asked ; and it is left that 
the seller is willing to make a considcral^le reduction rather 
than send the horse back. But this reduction does not 
amount to perhaps more than one foiulh of what Nickem 
wants, so a beginning must be made to bring this about. 
"We will instance one way of beginning. The owner and 



.2S4 PUTTING IN A COOLER. 

Nickem see the horse out together. In this case he is not 
shown so as to make his master more in love with him 
than he was : in short, he never saw the horse go worse. 
Nickem looks in so peculiar and attentive a way at the 
horse's going, that the seller is induced to ask his motive. 
Before he gives an answer (so delicately tenacious is he of 
saying an unpleasant thing, and so feelingly alive is he to 
the interest of his employer,) that he says to his man, 
" Go down again, Jem : give him his head ; go five miles 
an hour ; that'll do ; stand." He now looks at one foot, 
then turns to the owner: " I beg pardon for not answering 
before, sir ; has this horse ever been a little tender on this 
foot?" — "No, never, Mr. Nickem ; there cannot be a 
sounder horse !" " Oh, I'm sure of that, sir, from what you 
say; but I can't fancy he goes quite level now." This is 
feeler the second, and gets a hint how the seller will take 
any thing of this kind : but it does more than this; it just 
leaves Nickem in a situation to be able hereafter with a 
good grace to confess his mistake, or to prove the correct- 
ness of his eye and judgment: in fact, to make the horse a 
sound or unsound one as he pleases. Not wishing at pre- 
sent to alarm the owner sufficiently to cause him to fear 
his horse is not in a state fit for sale, he now says — " I see 
that the shoe presses a little hard on the hee! ; I have no 
doubt but that is all. I will get his feet nicely put to 
rights: they will look all the better for sale, and I have no 
doubt the horse will be all right immediately. I will see 
it done myself." — [Mem. no doubt of that!) — "Put a poul- 
tice on that horse's off foot, and I will get his shoes altered 
first thing in the morning : go in. — No occasion, sir, to 
make every body as wise as ourselves : w^e'll set him to 
rights, never fear!" Some people might think that if a 
shoe really pinched, the sooner it was off the better, and 
would have it off immediately. 1 should, and so would 
Nickem in such a case: but then the owner might be in- 
clined to see his horse's foot pared out himself. This 
would not be so convenient; though even then the thing 
might be managed right, and would be, unless the owner 
was pretty conversant with the anatomy of feet. 

Nickem has really done a good deal of business in an 
hour. He has got ten pounds taken off the price of the 



PREPARING A SELLER FOR STEWING. 285 

horse as a beginning; he has found out that the owner 
does not wish to get him back if he can at all help it; 
added to which, he is requested to let him know what 
offer is made. I'his, if Nickem does not go to sleep, is 
ten pounds more off. He has raised something like a 
doubt of his perfect soundness, has got the opportunity of 
ascertaining this for his own private satisfaction; has the 
means of keeping him sound or making him an unsound 
one; and has put the owner a good deal more out of hu- 
mour with the horse than he was when he left his stable. 
Now this is doing business: some particular and illiberal 
people may also call it doing customers. This is in fact 
the grand dish that calls forth all Nickem's talent: the 
spiced and seasoned fibs are merely little side-dishes, ad- 
juncts, and sauces, required to make the whole look well, 
and are as necessary to form his chef-d' (zuvre as the claret 
is to stewed carp. A really well-done customer is a glo- 
rious dish, always to be found at Nickem's table; and, 
what is better, instead of costing money, puts money in 
his pocket. French cooks serve up glorious dishes: but I 
apprehend on rather a more expensive plan. 

Nickem having thus put matters en train, it will now be 
advisable to wait a bit, and let the customer cool a little. 
Nothing cools colts or customers more than '' standing on 
the bit,'^ provided we do not keep them long enough at it 
to ruffle their tempers: and finding no offer made, or at 
least not one near the mark, is also as great a cooler to a 
seller as the patent powders are to ice-creams, claret, or 
champagne: the two refrigerators make them all just fit to 
be used: in fact, to be taken in. After a few days, a letter 
is sent to the customer, post-mark (we will say) Brighton, 
f5omething to this effect: — 

" Mr. Nickem, 
"Sir — From the very strong recommendation you gave 
me of the bay horse 1 saw at your Repository on Wednes- 
day, I am induced to make you an offer for him. If the 
owner is disposed to take fifty pounds, you may give it for 
me. This, considering he is not a horse of any known 
character, I think is his full value. 1 am, sir,'' &c. — 
Signed (of course) any body. 



286 THE SELLER STEWING. 

This additional feeler, considering it only cost a shilling 
to a guard to put it in the post-office, is not an expensive 
one, and is sent, accompanied by a note from Nickem, 
giving it as his opinion "that it is not quite what he should 
recommend being taken, as by holding the horse over he 
is satisfied he should get a better price." 

This holding over, though it has cooled the customer, 
now, like the bit, from having been kept some time on, 
begins to make him restless and fidgety; so, after reading 
^ny body^s letter, he first d — s the horse, then his ill-luck, 
and (almost) the Repository: but most particularly and 
especially the dealer from whom he bought him. "Nickem 
did, in fact, tell him he had given too much!" He resolves 
to send his groom for the horse: then comes the after- 
thought of the trouble, inconvenience, and expense of this, 
added to the doubt of his being able to sell him at home. 
Then, in favour of taking the offer, comes the homely 
adage of making the best of a bad bargain. This is not 
always to be done; for he has got hold of Nickem, and 
Nickem of him. Now, Nickem is a bad bargain; and it 
does not seem likely he will make the best of him. Again, 
if the horse is sold from home, no one knows for what he 
was sold. This is really a consideration, and a great one; 
for though being conscious of our having done a foolish 
thing, is bad enough, it is still worse that our neighbours 
should be conscious of it also. So down he sits, takes his 
pen, d — s that (though on another occasion he would have 
merely changed it,) and then tells Mr. Nickem "that 
though fifty pounds is a miserable price for such a horse, 
as he has been so unlucky to him, he had better take it at 
once to put an end to farther trouble." God help the man 
in his innocency! for there is a little farther trouble in 
store for him yet. By-the-by, who keeps the key of this 
store.'* I do not know; certainly no one with any par- 
liamentary interest, for, indeed, serving out troubles to the 
world is no sinecure. 

It may now be reasonably supposed that Nickem, having 
got the horse to fifty, would be disposed, nay content, to 
have him; not he; have him he will, but why give fifty 
even, if forty will do! "Ridiculous!" some people may 
)Say : " is it to be supposed a man is to be farther gulled, 



THE SELLER DONE, BUT NOT BROWNED. 287 

and that, thinking fifty pounds a miserable price, he will 
take ten pounds less?'^ Yes, he will, and probably solicit 
Nickem to take him at that; and we shall soon see one of 
the ways by which he will be made to do so. 

•Reader, did you ever hear of '•^7nann fact tiring a corn?^^ 
Probably not: but I have, and I dare say should have had 
the thing tried with me, if I had not always perfectl)' well 
known whether any horse of mine had corns or not, and 
never left it to any one to determine the fact for me. But 
as Nickem now finds it judicious to manufacture one, the 
reader will learn all about it. Nickem has perfectly satis- 
fied himself long since that the horse was sound, and had 
he been offered at any time fifteen or twenty pounds more 
than he was autho: ized to take for him, he would have done 
so and pocketed the balance: — (how this may be done with- 
out detection I shall by-and-by explain; sufficient for the 
present transaction is the evil thereof:) — but not having 
been offered this, and resolving to have him, forty rs the 
price determined on: so now we will manufacture the corn. 

The smith is sent for. Nickem does not compromise 
himself to him, as you will see. "Take off that shoe: 1 
am afraid this horse has a corn." Off comes the shoe, and 
the searcher is applied. " Take down both heels pretty 
well, so as not to disfigure the foot too much: there, now 
try this heel; I am sure it is very deep-seated. Go on: ah ! 
I was sure of it. There, put on his shoe." The smith per- 
fectly well knows what all this is about; but he shoes f(jr 
the place, and knows it is as much his business not to make 
remarks, as it is to make horse shoes and corns when either 
are wanted. 

The ovvner is now written to, to say his horse is sold at 
fifty, Nickem regretting he could not do better. The owner 
thanks God he is gone at all events, though the price was 
bad. Now this philosophy and thankfulness is very proper 
and grateful; but he is not gone; for the next day the seller 
receives — " Sir, I regret to say your horse has been returned 
to my stables, not having answered the warranty of sound- 
ness given when sold. I send you Mr. the veterinary 

surgeon's opinion. " I am, sir," &c. 

**I certify I have this day examined a bay gelding, brought 



288 THE SELLER BROWNING. 

to me by Mr. Nickem's foreman, and find he has a corn on 
his off-forefoot, and is consequently unsound. 

"Timothy Turnemback, V. S." 

I fear the gentleman's feelings of thankfulness will be 
somewhat diminished by this, whatever his philosophy 
may be. He determines personally to see into the thing 
— that is, as far as he can, which will not be very far after 
all. 

We will leave the gentleman preparing for his journey, 
and consider a little the ins and outs of these corn cases, 
for they are of very frequent occurrence. Now a corn is 
really the neatest, the least cruel, the most certain, and least 
to be disputed mode of making an unsound horse I know 
of. Veterinarians may give you a long account of the na- 
ture, cause, and effects of corns: but in examining a horse, 
there is no need for this: there it is, and that is enough. 
1'here is a red mark; a corn is a red mark: and whether 
that has been produced by pressure, bruise, or by having 
cut so near the sensible part a( the foot as to show the 
same thing, it returns the horse, and that is all Kickem 
wanted. It may be asked whether a Vet may not be able- 
to tell a manufactured corn from one produced by ordinary 
causes? This is not my business to answer or interfere' 
with. I have only shown what I meant — that corns are' 
made, and horses are returned in consequence of them. 

We will say the gentleman has arrived, and expressed 
his astonishment and chagrin very vehemently, and very 
naturally: Nickem has also expressed his chagrin very ar- 
tificially: he has not expressed his astonishment, because" 
this is the time to remind the gentleman of a little obser- 
vation made by Nickem at the commencement of the busi-- 
ness, and kept in reserve for use when wanted. Nickem 
now thinks it 75 wanted; so says, " I am not so much sur- 
prised as you are, sir, at the horse having this corn; for if 
you remember, I told you when I saw him out, I thought 
he did not run level When I had him shod, I did not like* 
to cut his foot too much down to examine it; but when the^ 
veterinary surgeon did, he saw it directly. I am sorry to-' 
find I was right after all. I wish we had had him examined 
at first: it would have saved trouble and time." 



THE SELLER FROTHED UP AND DONE BROWN. 2S9 

"Well," exclaims the owner in despair, "what is to be 
done now? I suppose we must sell him without warrant- 
ing him." — "I will do that, if you please," says Nickem; 
"but it will be a great loss and pity: had you not better 
take him home?" — "Home!" cries the thoroughly tired- 
out-customer: "no ; I'll sell him at something; will you 
buy him, Mr. Nickem ?" — Nickem declares " he never 
buys a horse brought to him for sale; he always avoids 
t/iat^ if possible." — "Well," cries the owner, "can you 
send for an}^ one who ivi/J buy him at once?" — "Why," 
says Nickem, 'Hhere is a man likely enough to buy him, 
but I must tell you he is a confounded rogue. Would you 
like to speak to him?" The owner would just now speak 
to the Old One, if he thought he would buy his horse. 
Nickem opens the ball with, "Mr. Meddler, I have sold a 
very fine horse for this gentleman, for fifty: he has been 
returned for a slight corn; will you buy him?" Meddler 
shakes his head: " No, thank you, Mr. Nickem, I lost 
enough by the last horse you persuaded me to buy of a gen- 
tleman." — "Well," says Nickem, "but vve must take off 
a five-pound note." — " Yes,'' says Meddler, " you must 
take off a good many if I buys him." — "Nonsense!" ex- 
claims the owner, now joining in: " come, what will you 
give for him?" — " I'd rather not make an offer," says Med- 
dler. By dint of persuasion, however. Meddler at last 
says, "Well, I'll give five-and-twenty, and no more." He 
then walks off. — "I told you, sir," says Nickem, "he was 
a rogue ; but I got a gentleman out of his horse last week 
by selling him to the fellow: so I hoped I could you ; but 
1 believe he did lose ten pounds ; so he is worse than ever 
now." 

" Come now," says the gentleman, "you can get out of 
the horse better of course than 1 can: do buy him your- 
self. What can you afford to give me?" After many 
objections, a good deal of sympathizing with the owner, 
&c., Nickem says, " Well, sir, if you really so earnestly 
wish it, I am not like Mr. Meddler; I don't think so much 
of the corn as he did : indeed I should think very little of 
it if I had not seen the horse go a little tender when I first 
saw him out with you. I will take him off your hands at 
forty pounds; and if you can bring any friend who will 
S5 



290 MERCY IS TWICE DLE8SEI?; 

give me the forty back, he shall be very welcome to 
him!" 

I think my reader will allow I have been as good a pro- 
phet in this as Vates. I have seen so many tricks of 
this sort, which have always ended very like this, that 
depend on it my supposed case is very near the mark. 

Having described some of the transactions carried on in 
some repositories, and brought forward Mr. ISickem in 
the principal character of the piece, which may be either* 
farce or light comedy to the actors and audience, but par- 
takes a good deal of the tragic so far as the author of the 
representation is concerned; and who, in contradistinction 
from authors in general, does not feel himself under any 
great obligation to the performers for playing their parts 
so well; in fact, though he was tokl all was done that could 
be done for his benefit, it was himself who was done, and 
his benefit was, as I fear such things often are, no benefit 
to any one but the lessee of the premises. Let us, how- 
ever, in charity, hope, that whatever Mr. Niekem's deserts 
may be, he will be off the stage when we expect the drop 
scene! Our own cup of iniquity is full enough: let us, 
therefore, if the business of the stage tkmands him, merci- 
fully direct the call-boy, vvherever the culprit may be, to 
seek him on the 0. P. S. This shall not, however, deter 
us from being on our guard against his usual cast of cha- 
racter. To- assist my reader in being so will be my altempvt 
in the following pages. 

I alluded to Niekem's managing to sell a horse for a 
much laro-er sum than he intended to hand over to the 
owner, and at the same time so to arrange the transactior^ 
as to shield himself from blame, even should the fact come 
toltght: but, befare I explain this, justice demands- an ob- 
servation or two on the subject. 

Whenever any one attempts to expose the tricks and 
nefarious practices of any particular business o-r class of 
men, he should be parrticiilarly careful not to allow it to be 
supposed that what he shows may be done, and certainly 
is done in some places, is the general practice in ul/, or 
that what a Nlckcm may do is to be expected from every 
man filling the same situation in life. There are doubtless 
many men of his avocation of great respectability, and- m 



ALMOST A CERTAINTY. 291 

whom we may implicitly trust. We may never be so 
unfortunate as to meet with a Nickem: if so, I allow a 
knowledge of his manner of managins^ afHiirs would be of 
little service to us; but, speaking as liberally as experience 
w.ll allow me, I do think the odds aie nearly even that we 
do meet the prototype of friend Nickem: so the odds go 
in the same ratio that information on this subject may be 
useful. To be able to judge, by certain signs and appear- 
ances, of the propinquity of danger, is a mighty useful sort 
of knowledge: it does us no harm where no danger is nigh, 
and does us a great deal of good when it is. I remember 
being quite of this opinion once under the following cir- 
cumstances: — 

I went to spend a week with a friend in the New Forest 
during the hunting season, so of course sent my horses 
down. He was located in the neighbourhood of Lynd- 
hurst: a more beautiful country cannot be; that is, for those 
who like sylvan scenery; better hounds need not be; and 
better sportsmen or a more pleasant gentlemanlike set of 
men I never met in any place, and most delighted should 
I be to meet them at any time: but I must allow I should 
prefer that time being from April to October, as, during 
the other months, there are hounds going in other coun- 
tries, and I have an intuitive dislike to knocking my brains 
about against the limbs of trees, breaking my horse's legs 
or shins against stumps of the same, or tumbling into holes 
and bogs. How those used to these things avoided them 
as they did, I know not; but this I do know, ten minutes 
made me acquainted with them all, a degree of intimacy 
quite unsolicited on my part. We found; pug went off 
just as I would always wish to see him go; (that is, in a 
country where I could ride.) I thought 1 could do so 
there; and, as Pat says, a pretty Molly Hogan 1 made of 
myself from entertaining such an opinion. Chance gave 
me a capital place at the fmd, so of course, as ^ fresh man, 
I took care to get a good start. A splendid open glade 
was before me, a good-looking country in the distance, 
hounds going with a burning scent like a hurricane, my- 
self on a thorough-bred that could, when asked, run a bit on 
the flat — what could a man ask for more this side of hea- 
ven! The horse I was on cared nothing about the pace, 



292 

and I only thought, if this was forest-hunting, no man need 
wish for any other. I hud heard of bogs, had been in one 
occasionally with the King's hounds, but those were black, 
ungentleman-like lookin» traps; not so the beautiful sward 
I was racing over, l^resently I heard, '-'Ware bog!^^ be- 
hind me; "hold hardl" It never occurred to me that I 
was the party warned, and the pace was too good to look 
back. In a few strides 1 was up to my horse's fetlocks; 
in a few seconds more up to his girths, w4th the pleasing 
conviction that if there mas a bottom it was a pretty con- 
siderable way to it. Seeing a wide expanse of the same 
delectable green sward before me, thnt I now, to its heart's 
content, cursed for its treachery, as Daniel O'Rourke did 
the black eagle; and moreover, not knowing how far it 
might last, I imprudently tried to turn my horse round; 
but a regular Hampshire chaw-bacon, with more sense than 
myself, called out, "Lay the whip into 'un, and coom 
straight out." Now, the laying the whip into 'un could 
only affect the head, neck, withers, and loins of my horse, 
all other parts being secured from such a visitation by the 
New Forest hasty-pudding. The spurs, however, went to 
work, and no small share of resolution on the part of my 
nag brought us through, both blowing like two grampuses. 
People may say that, professing myself a fox-hunter, and 
not more nervous than my neighbours, my first thought 
should have been which way I could again get to the 
hounds. Candour compels me to allow I made no such 
inquiry; but I instanter made another — "which was my 
way home!" With all appendages on me I usually ride 
about list.; I think I rode home thirteen at. least, allowing 
for twenty-eight honest pounds of bog-adhesive mixture. 
I looked black enough then, and my friends told me I 
looked blue enough when they met me at dinner, till their 
hospitality made me take sundry bumpers to their continued 
and my better success. Success to them! I would get into 
another bog to meet such companions. 

The next day I considered I could suit the country to a 
tittle; so I mounted a mare I had, though not at all one of 
my sort, for she was just fast enough to drive a wheelbar- 
row; but you could twist her round on a cabbage leaf, and 
as to fencing, nothing a quadruped, from a Hendon deer to 



^■^MAUY, .AIAP.y, LIST AWAKE. '^ 293 

a Skye terrier, could get through or over in size or intri- 
cac}' came amiss to her. We had another glorious find: 
the varmint came almost under my mare's nose. At such 
a moment no true enthusiast in fox-hunting can be, or ought 
to be, in perfect possession of his sober senses: it is mad- 
dening. I had, however, sense enough to know that no- 
thing but getting first start would do for "sober Mary:" so 
off I went by the side of the first two or three couple of 
hounds, and, without any gasconade, I verily believe I lay 
with them five hundred yards; but soon I lay by the side 
of "prostrate Mary," for galloping over some dry ground 
covered with leaves, and consequently in perfect confi- 
dence of no bog being in the way, in went Mary up to 
her breast in a hole, and I on her neck peeping into her 
ears, I suppose to inquire wl,at was the matter. 3But, by 
other research, I found we had fallen into the rotten cavity 
of the roots of a former large tree. Poor Mary and I got 
on our legs, shook our feathers, but it was "no go:" she 
was lame as the tree itself, and the sti-ain and bruise of the 
muscles of the fore-arm spoiled her forest hunting: so 1 
had to resort to the bumpers again to keep the steam up 
that evenino;. 

Determined, if possible, to see a run in this country, I 
did uhat 1 considered would ensure my so doing, and to 
this purpose resolved to take as pioneer next day a gentle- 
inan who knew every inch of the country; but there is a 
wide difference between making resolves and keeping them. 
A iiiost impenetrable fog came on a few ndnutes after we 
had found. I could see my van-guard for fifty yards before 
me, but no more. How he gave me the slip I know not, 
but I all at once missed him, and in his place found myself 
on the bank of an impracticable brook; heard the hounds 
running a-head; and there I was as. much at home in point 
of knowing my locality as I should have been in the Uk- 
raine. Our good stars order every tb.ing for the best. I 
hadi an appointment in Northannptonshire; so I left the 
next day, or, as the New Forest was the grave of one so 
high as Rufus, I dare say it would have also witnessed the 
demise of the humble Harry Hie'over. 

It may be asked, what on earth has Harry Hie'ovek's 
tumbles and mishaps in the New Forest to do with people':^ 

25-* 



294 '•''HE WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS AWAY, MAY," ETC. 

transactions with a Nickem? Perhaps nothing quoad the 
two occurrences, but a good deal in showing the advantages 
of information and being put on our guard ; for had I known 
that New Forest bogs looked sometimes like a well-kept 
lawn, I should not have been half smothered in one: had I 
known the lower parts of trees were left to rot in the ground, 
I should not have ridden, like a Tommy Noodle, where I 
could not see terra jirina; and had I known the country- 
like my pioneer, I should, like him, have got to the liounds, 
and had a good day's sport afterwards, instead of being left 
staring at a river, and, like the babes in the wood, unwit- 
ting how to get to my mamma, or, perhaps, more like a 
stray bull, kept bellowing till a countryman came up, to 
whom I was glad to give half-a-crown to put me in the high 
road. 

If this is not thought illustra'ive enough of the advan- 
tages of knowing our danger, and the symptoms of its ap- 
proach, I will suppose a ease. A gentleman has been kicked 
out of his gig, and has squatted himself by the road-siile, 
philosophically rubbing his shins, and casting his eyes on, 
or rather after, his horse, which has made off with a por- 
tion of the vehicle at his heels; thus gratuitously informing 
the public that in his case (as in most of our comforts in 
this life) there is still a something left behind. Now had 
this gentlemian been told that the object of the kicker is to 
get rid of the kickee and the vehicle from behind him, he 
would be quite aware that such a finale would by no means 
contribute to his interest or comfort. This would rouse 
his suspicions, keep him on the alert, and prevent his 
going to sleep. This is something got by information, 
useful though not pleasant: but if we give him the farther 
information, that before kicker goes to work, he will wrig- 
gle his tail, and when he intends beginning in earnest, will 
bring it close to his rump; in that case, at the first wriggle, 
if he is a wise man, he will trust kicker no farther: he will 
get another horse; or, if he is forced to drive him, he will 
put on a kicking-strap that he cannot break, pull him on 
his haunches the moment the tail begins again ; and if he is 
a coachman, and has nerve, will lay the whip on his ears, 
or in road phrase "take an ear off." 

So with Mr. Nickem. 1 point out what he possibly in- 



HOW TO MANAGE A KICKEM-NICKEM. 295 

lends doing, and some of the modes that prelude his kind 
intentions. The reader is, therefore, aware there may be 
danger, and learns the symptoms of its reaching; him: so 
he can either change his customer at once, which would 
perhaps be the wisest plan, or if his convenience makes 
him use him, put on the kicking-strap at once the moment 
he begins wriggling, and pull him also on his haunches. 
Depend on it Nick will have discrimination enough to 
find out that some one holds the reins of his conduct who 
will not be trifled with, and who will be quite likely to 
"take an ear off" him if he begins any of his nonsense; 
but with such a maa he would know too v/ell to (as he 
would probably term it) "try it on." 

We will now see how the selling a horse for (say) eighty, 
and handing the owner over sixty (this of course minus 
keep, commission and sundries,) is to be effected. 

I have shown how a horse is to be got down to a certain 
price by a regularly concerted chain of iniquitous practices. 
In that case Nickem bought him; in this he does not; but 
has still hy other manoeuvres got the owner to consent to 
his being sold at a less price than Nickem knows lie shall 
1)6 able to get for him; or perhaps — from some dislike to 
the horse, the being obliged to leave the neighbourhood, 
or from a variety of causes — the owner may offer to sell 
him for less than he knows he is worth: here a Mr. Med- 
dler will again come into use. 

Now, in these cases, the chance of detection of course 
depends a great deal on whether the horse is sold to remain 
in the neighbourhood or not; and still more, on whether 
tiie seller is remaining there, or going away, or abroad. If 
the latter, he is lucky if he does not get "a dig" to his 
heart's content. If he is likely to remain, more caution is 
necessary, and he may get off' with half his skin instead of 
being regularly flayed: but in either case, Nickem "makes 
assurance doubly sure:" he won't give a chance away. 
Do not suppose you will be able to detect him in any act 
of rascality he may commit; he will be too deep for you. 
nor suppose he will even d\\o\y a trap to he laid for him; 
he is too deep for that too. 

This reminds me of an old country gentleman who came 
to London: he had heard a great deal of the handy prac- 



296 THE BAIT DETECTED. 

tices of pickpockets, and thought if he could hut detect one, 
what a story it would he to take to Green Goose Hall! 
His good lady, Mrs. Oakapple, would hail him a second 
Munchausen; the windmill exploits of La Mancha's knight, 
that iiad whilom expanded the eyes of the expanding Oak- 
a|)ples, junior, would sink into insignificance before the 
hardiliood of their stalwart pa, who had taken a live pick- 
pocket! But no such glorious triumph awaited the laud- 
able efforts of the venerable Oakapple. Out he sallied, and 
having heard that a well-known print and caricature shop 
(or rather the pathway in front of it) was the arena where 
many blue bird's-eye fogks had been abstracted, away he 
went to the scene of action, his nerves strung to deeds of 
daring, if daring might be necessary; and, feeling quite 
certain that whatevisr any pickpocket might be itp to, he 
should be down on the pickpocket, he left a good long cor- 
ner of his handkerchief hanging out of his pocket, and u ith 
(as he thought) an apparent careless look, sauntered before 
the shop ready for a grab if the trap took. Now mice we 
know have a predilection for toasted cheese, so have pick- 
pockels for handkerchiefs; but they won't always nibble, 
and it required a neater hand than fiiend Oakapple's to bait 
for the latter marauders. Judge his astonishment and mor- 
tification, when a knowing-looking gentleman walked up 
to him, looked him full in the face, and, pointing to the 
decoy wipe, clapped him on the shoulder, saying, with a 
derisive smile, '«It won't do, my old cock!" Old cock! 
what a term to be applied to the head of the Oakapples, a 
Justice of the Peace, and Lord of Green Goose Manor! 
Deteated, out^vitted, and beat at his own w'capons, he could 
only look all he would have done; then buttoned up the 
decoy tight in his coat-pocket, determined that, as it was 
not taken as he wanted, it should not be taken at all, and 
ofiMn high dudgeon he moved homewards: but pickpockets, 
like Nickem, have various little ways of doing business. 
Our worthy friend had not proceeded many paces home- 
wards, growling that his handkerchief had remained in 
such security, when, to alleviate his chagrin on this subject, 
wiiop came a hand on the crown of his hat, down goes the 
hat over his eyes, and while the decoy flew out of his 
pocket, away went his watch out of his fob; but, horror of 



OLD, BUT NOT OLD ENOUGH. 297 

all horrors! what did he hear? — ^'It will do noz^;, old 
cock!" — On g;etting his hat to its proper elevation, he only 
saw half a dozen blackguard urchins grinning around him : 
he merely stopped to shove up his hat. that from its broken 
lining had nearly blinded him: he effected this, when, "It 
will do now, old cock," from the said urchins, sent him, 
(regardless of mud,) to the middle of the street, where he 
plunged into a cab, perfectly satisfied that he did not quite 
know all that might be taught him. In fact, if a man 
means to get among knowing ones, he must live some 
years and be pretty wide awake before he can venture to 
say of and to himself, "You'll do now, old cock!" 

It will 7iot do, however, unless I now return to Mr. 
Nickem; and I will place him by supposition in about as 
awkward a position as possible, and one that it might be 
thought difficult to get out of. If he succeeds in doing so 
with credit to himself, instead of being detected, we must 
allow he had taken a few more lessons in "wide-awake- 
ism" than the Lord of Goose Green Manor. Now, the 
term wide-awake-ism is rather a long one: I allow I cer- 
tainly never heard it used in a drawing-room, nor is it to 
be found in Johnson : it is a little manufacture or compila- 
tion of my own, of which I am rather proud, and for this 
reason. Although there is a most mortifying falling off 
from the talent of the worthy lexicographer to my own, 
still no half dozen words he ever wrote or used can con- 
vey just the same meaning. (I dare say, however, he ne- 
ver intended that they should.) If I wanted to convey an 
idei of the ridiculous, I would suppose the scene between 
the Dr. and any man who had told the former that he was 
ivide awake: still to be so is useful sometimes; so it will 
be seen it was to Nickem. 

He had, no matter from what cause, got leave to sell a 
gentleman's horse for sixty: the gentleman was leaving 
the place to go abroad, and had taken his place in the mail 
for that purpose. All this Nickem knew was to take 
place: so a bungler would have made no preparations for 
any conlre/enips that might occur; when, as will be seen, 
there would have been, as sailors say, "the devil to pay, 
and no pitch hot:" but let what could occur, Nicken) was, 
like Lothario, "equal to both, and armed for cither field." 



298 THREATENING A STORM. 

The horse was reported sold : the gentleman came for the 
l^alance of his sixty pounds: now, though the keep and 
commission came to a round sum, Nickem thought, as the 
gentleman was going away, he might as well try for a 
pound or two more: so sa}s, '-I was forced, sir, a little to 
exceed your directions, hut I thought you would not like 
to lose the sale- of your horse for two pounds; so I took 
fifty-eight: if you ohject to it, it shall be immediately takeft 
out of my commission, as of course I had no right to exceed 
jHiur orders; but I did for the best." The gentleman, with 
the liberality of one, replies, ^'Oh no, Mr. JSickem; I do 
not wish that: pay me the balance, and I am satisfied: you 
were quite right, as 1 must go this afternoon." So far no- 
thing could be better. If the gentleman was satisfied, 
Nickem was perfectly so: and thus we may suppose the 
matter concluded. We have seen how Nickem has be- 
haved, and acquitted himself while it was all fair weather: 
let us now see how presence of mind and properly-taken 
precaution will serve him when a storm seems likely to 
burst on his devoted head. 

The gentleman, while they were changing horses at the 
fir.-^t stage, happened to see another on his lately sold nag, 
and, as a man naturally might do, went up to his old servant, 
patted him, and said to the rider, "You have bought a 
horse lately mine: I congratulate you on your purchase; 
he is an excellent horse: I am glad to see him in such 
good hands, and as from going away I was obliged to sell 
Fiim so much under his value, 1 am glad a gentleman has 
got him." — "I like your horse exceedingly," replies the 
purchaser; "but I think I gave as much as his fair value 
for him." — "I assure you," replied the first owmer, "I 
gave ninety for him six months since, and consider him 
worth it, and you have him at fifty-eight." — "Excuse me, 
sir," said the purchaser, "I gave eighty guineas for him." 
— "Eighty!" cried the former: "and did you buy him at 
Nickem's?" — "I did," says the purchaser. — "Then," re- 
plies the seller, "you must allow Mr. Nickem is neither 
more nor less than a robber and a scoundrel !" 

"Now, sir!" says the coachman. — "No," replies the 
gentleman, "I shall not go on." — "Right!" cries the guard 
— exi/ msiW. — The gentleman orders a chaise "directly." 



A CAL.M COMING ON. 299 

— "Hostler, if you please, sir." — "Porter, sir, if yoa 
please.'' — "Go on, boy:" and now earzV post-chaise.— "The 
t'rench swore terribly in Flanders/' says Corporal Trim. 
(I dare say they did, for I have heard them swear pretty 
well in their own country,) but that was with a kind of 
shut teeth grating sacrc sound, quite unlike the fine round 
volume of sound with which the oaths came from llvft 
mouth of our vengeful gentleman: the chaise could not 
hold them, so he opened the windows, and they escaped 
on each side like soap-and-water bubbles from a boy's to- 
bacco-pipe. The current of air one might think during 
the ten miles might have cooled the gentlenian, but it did 
not, or his anger. The curses bestowed on the well-known 
Obadiah were tolerably particular and multifarious; but 
they were few in number and mild in imjDort to those ful- 
minated against the culprit Nickem. He was to be ex- 
posed, prosecuted to the utmost rigour of the law, thrash- 
ed ; (only some doubts arose on the practicability of this 
latter mode of vengeance;) but in bis own yard he should 
be convicted before all present: in shortj what was not to 
be done? But, ah, what simple circum!?tances often turn 
aside' the greatest resolves! Up came the smoking horses 
to Nickem's gate, out jumped the gentleman, sv^^elled by 
the pent-up passions he prepared to give vent to. There 
stood the supposed convicted felon, but with no apparent 
conscious feelings of fear or repentance in his countenance, 
no downcast look, no visible trepidation of manner: he savv 
the gentleman coming: the bland and seeming honest smile 
of Nickem, though it made no difference in his irate cus- 
tomer's resolves, lowered thelveat of his passion from 110 
degrees to 50 of Fahrenheit: so he spake temperately. 
"' Pray, Mr. Nickem, how do you account for your con^ 
duct respeetmg myhofse?" — Nickem: "In what way, 
sir?" — Seller r " Why, I met the gentleman this day who 
bought, and gave eighty guineas for him, when, as you 
know, you told me you sold hi-m at fifty-eight." — ^Nick: 
"I don't wonder at yoivr being angry, sir, at all; 1 have 
been out of hu-mou-r with myself ever since \ sold him: I 
sold him to as great a vagabond as any in town; and you 
might just as well, and much better, have had the eighty 
guineas as him: but you shall see I am not to blame. Mr. 



300 CLEAR AND SATISFACTORY EVIDENCE. 

Meddler," says Nickem (addressing the latter, who I need 
not say was always as much at hand as Nickem's whip,) 
" do you happen to have the receipt about you that you 
took for the chestnut horse ?" — 'M don^tknow, I am sure,'^ 
says Meddler; " if I hav'n^t, I have it at home." His well- 
used pocket-book comes out, and out of that (after a good 
deal of apparent search) comes a paper: — 

"Received of Mr. Michael Meddler fifty-eight pounds 
for a chestnut gelding, warranted sound, sold for Thomas 
Tobedone, Esq.; for N. Nickem, Gregory Go between." 

''That is satisfactory, certainly, Mr. Nickem," says the 
gentleman: "then it appears the horse was sold twice?" — 
"Just so, sir," gflys Nickem: "this fellow had not the 
horse two hours before in comes the gentleman you saw, 
and be stuck him for eighty: of course I could say nothing; 
he had a right to get what lie chose after buying the horse. 
If I had been lucky enough to have waited, I should have 
got it for you. I could have knocked my bead against the 
wall. I did not like to mention it to you, as it would do 
no good; and as I know how I felt, I thought it no use to 
annoy you by telling you of it!" 

AVhere are now all the convictions, the law-proceedings, 
the threatened exposures! There is the proof of as fair a 
transaction as possible. The gentleman even feels it due 
to say something in extenuation of his doubts of its fair- 
ness, and ends by saying in part apology, "You must al- 
low, Nickem," (no Mr. now — we don't always Mister 
honest fellows,) "it did at first look oddV Nickem al- 
lows it did look odd: the gentleman was not aware of how 
many odd things are done in some repositories! 

The wisest, and indeed the only thing our defeated friend 
can now do is to go and make himself as comfortable as he 
can for the evening, and again take his place by the next 
day's mail. Having discussed his cutlet, and being now 
placidly taking his wine and an olive, he takes out his 
pencil and tablets, and just makes out the Dr. and contra 
Cr. state of his account so far as relates to this said horse. 
Nickem does the same thing, the statement of each being 
about as follows:— 



MEMOKANUUMS. 



301 



T. TOBEDONE S ACCOUNT 






NICKEIn's ACCOUNT. 




£. 


s. 


d. 




£. sj 


d.- 


I'd difference between £90 






To difference-money paid for, 




and £58 in price of horse 32 








and price sold, Tobedone's 




Paid Nickem commission - 2 


18 





horse - - _ 


- 26 





Keep three weeks - - 3 


3 





Commission 


- 2 18 





Removing shoes (Mem. never 






By ball and shoes 


- 3 





removed) - - - 


2 





Profit three weeks' livery 


- 18 





A diuretic (never given) - 


1 











Nagsman and helper at Nick- 








£29 19 





em's - - - - 


12 


n 


Paid Meddler £5 


- 5 





Mail-fare forfeited - - 2 














Chaise los., boy 3^., hostler 












] 5., porter 1^. - - 1 








Net Profit - 






Loss - £41 


16 


f) 


£24 19 






"This will do for me," cries Nick, rubbing his hands: 
he is right; and it will do for the gentleman if he only 
goes on in the same w^y. But by-and-by we xvil! try to 
put him in a better. We may in all cases guard against a 
rogue to a great degree: in many^ we may efiectually do so: 
but though a man may be a man of education, sense, and 
talent, if he pits himself against a thorough-paced rogue,- 
on the score o[ detection, in nineteen cases in twenty, the 
practised low cunning and self-possession of the latter will 
beat the other hollow. 

I have mentioned the manufacturing of corns as a part of 
the business of such an establishment as Nick's. 1 can 
assure my readers that the manufacture of letters and notes 
to suit particular occasions, and represented as coming 
from different persons, is quite as frequent a practice. Tiie 
executive part of this note and letter department is carried 
on bv the clerk, occasionally assisted by a "Mr. JNIeddler," 
of course under the control of Nick, who would not com- 
mit himself by the chance of a letter of his own writing 
being brought against him. The clerk values his berth too 
much to talk, though perhaps an honest man himself, whose 
conscience often rebels against what he is made to do. Be- 
sides, though it might be proved he wrote a note, it might 
not be easy to prove he was directed to do so: and as the 
weakest generally go to the wall, Nick would he too strong 
for him; so the result of any babbling on his part would 
only end in his being at once turned out, and stigmatized 
26 



302 IM-MORTALIZIXG AN AUTHOR". 

(from want of proof of ths reverse] as an ungrateful scohth 
drel: so l^e is, in racing phrase, " made safe." 

As for Meddler, Nick's first object in patronizing him 
is to get him in his debt: he therefore is a tool, a mere 
&lave in Nick's hands: if he dared speak, he would belaid 
by the heels, as Pat says, "in less than no time;" and pro- 
bably he would be subject to an action for defamation; im 
which case his general character not being likely to be any 
strong advocate in his favour, he is quite aware he could 
have no chance: so he is "made safe" also. 

Never therefore let a seller or buyer be misled by letters 
shown him: they are as much to be depended upon as are 
the same things someHmes manufactured by some dealers. 
If we have to do with a respectable man, we want no such 
attempted, corroboratory evidence: if we meet a rogue, a 
letter shown by him is just as much proof of truth as his 
word or his oath, and these would be no proof at all. In 
speaking thus plainly, I do not feel any qualification neces- 
sary, as I only allude to some dealers and some repository- 
keepers, and quite as much to som,e tradesmen of any sort, 
but particularly, however, to some of the 2S, \\d\ sort I 
before alluded to. 

1 have only in one or two instances ever particularized 
(in what I have written) any individual or establishment, 
unless where I felt I could indulge in the pleasure of doing 
so in terms of commendation. When I have done other- 
wise, the persons mentioned or alluded to deserved much 
more than I said of them. I had a hint given me some 
time since, that a definiiion of the cliaracters of the difier- 
ent leading horse-dealers in London and the country would 
be acceptable to the public — I think it right to say this 
hint did not in any way directly or indirectly emanate 
from the worthy publisher of the Sporting Magazine — 
but it would be an ungracious task, and one I should he 
very reluctant to undertake. Whether I may ever men- 
tion the names of some that I consider worthy the confr- 
dence of the public would be another affair. If I was a 
vain or ostentatious man, I miglit be tempted to do this, as 
those gentlemen might in return immortalize my name by 
jointly purchasing a second-hand mile-stone to be erected 
to the memory of Harry nHie-ovek ; that is, ?y they could 



A GOOD FELLOW, TAKE HIM ALTOGETHER. 303 

find a spot of ground sufficiently waste to get permission to 
put it up. 

I have mentioned my dislike to parilcularize persons 
and places unless in a perfectly -commendatory way. J^ut 
I wish my readers to be satisfied that all (and of course ten 
times as much as) I have stated mai/ be done in reposi- 
tories I k 7101V has been done; but I by no means wish to 
indicate where. The supposed cases 1 have stated 1 have 
seen take place. 

So long since as the year 1S25, I was ordered to a cer- 
tain part of Her Majesty's dominions where there vv^s and 
now is one of the largest repositories known. I was sta- 
tioned there eleven years, and having plenty of time on my 
hands, I was every day, and sometimes oftener, in this 
establishment. It was a lounge. I have, moreover, bought 
there and sold there; and being always interested in those 
pursuits, and keeping my eyes and ears open, and particu- 
larly my mouth shut, I soon got an fait of all that vvas 
going on. This eleven years' investigation was a pretty 
good apprenticeship; and a close inspection of what is done 
in other similar establishments since has made me a match 
for many people: but with all due and proper humility, I 
allow I might very possibly still be done by Nickem, 
though, like many others in unequal contests, we would 
have a tussle for it 

To show there is a fair chance of myself as w'ell as many 
others getting an occasional "stick," I will mention how 
one occurred, and how I got out of it. The owner of the 
repository I now allude to was one of those few men of 
such imperturbable good humour tliat nothing could ruffle 
it, let him do what he would— and certainly some very 
funny things he did do occasionally. However victimized 
a man might be by him, the moment you came face to 
face with him, his own honest-looking and good-tempered 
one disarmed all attempts lo be angry with him; and a 
thorough good-natured and good-hearted fellow he was in 
the main; but he could not help doing you: it was with 
him a positive monomania: he could not be happy unless 
he did. People knew he would, yet for the life of them 
they could neither keep away from him, prevent his doing 
it; nor be angry with him when he did. The way he kept 



304 TURN AND TURN ABOUT. 

his customers together was this. He did you to-day: you 
grumbled at the purchase: there was no hesitation or ex- 
cuse made on his part, but he said at once, " Send him 
back^ Pll get you out of him:" and so he would. He 
would give you '^ a dig" to-day, and give some one else a 
double-distilled one to-morrow to get you out of it. The 
last he contrived to give to somebody he did^not care 
about, or to some green-horn who he could talk into believ- 
ing he had done him a favour. I had had so many deals 
with him that I thought he would not attempt or wish to 
dome: but the '•■ruling passion" once (and I must say 
pnly once) was too strong for him. 

I went to see a gentleman's stud sold. I saw a very 
fine brown horse that struck my fancy. I went up to our 
friend of the sunny smile, and asked about the horse. He 
was all and every thing I could wish. "Is he sound?" said 
I, "and what may I bid for him?" — -"He is sound," said 
Sunny, "and buy him at any thing under fifty.*' He was 
knocked down to me at forty-eight. I followed my pur- 
chase into the stable, liked him much, and he was ap- 
parently as sound a horse as I ever saw or handled. After 
the sale, I went to the stable to get him saddled to ride him 
home. I now saw he had ^favourite leg or foot that he 
was nursing under the manger. 1 guessed the truth at once, 
and saw that he was lame in walking out of the stable. It 
is true he was sold without warranty, but I bought him on 
Sunny's word, and 1 determined he should make it good. 
Not choosino; to expose my purchase or myself before some 
hundred [)eople, I gave him on mounting a kick with both 
heels, and cantered him out of the yard. The next morn? 
ing I found him, of course, as lame as a tree. I got on him, 
and cantered him into as I had out of the yard, dismount- 
ed, turned him loose, and told Sunny, "there was his re- 
commendation; I would not pay for him, would not lose 
by him, and, what was more, would neither pay for keep 
till he was sold nor commission on his sale." Sunny only 
laughed; accommodated an officer with him who was going 
abroad, and positively offered me a profit on the price I 
was to have given for him, which, of course, I refused to 
take. He never played me a trick afterwards. I could not 
be angry with the devil, even had I lost by the transaction: 



AN ECLIPSE. 305 

l^at I did as I have recommended others to do hy Nick — 
I brou(:;lit him on his haunches at once, and always kept 
the kicking-strap on: but he never attempted even a lift 
afterwards with me. 

There is another department in similar establishments 
that is productive in various ways of a much greater source 
of profit where a larger business is done than people may 
imagine. In such a one as that I have alluded to, th^ 
legitimate profits of these were not less than from six to 
seven hundred a-year; and where five shillings is charged 
for putting in harness, and breaks are out, perhaps, ten 
times a-day, the profits may be easily conceived. I n^.ean, 
by what I designate legitimate profits, the fairly trying and 
breaking horses to harness: what the illegitimate profits 
may be it is impossible to calculate, as they depend on cir- 
cumstances. By illegitimate profits, I mean tiying horses 
in harness without the knowledge of the owner; the con- 
triving to make a horse go quietly at one time that is a 
devil incarnate at others; and vice versa, making a horse 
disposed to draw quietly appear and in fact be the very 
reverse — all of which little funny tricks are to be managed, 
and are managed, as may suit different occasions. In short, 
there is no branch of the business of a repository in which 
in some places a little chiselling is not made use of. 

I have shown where it is very much to tlie interest of 
a Nickem to privately ascertain whether a horse left w^ith 
him for sale will go in harness or not. It may be easily 
conceived when it is desirable to make a vicious one go 
steady; this is, of course, when he is to be got off. When 
it is equally desirable that he should not go quietly may- 
require a word or two of explanation: but to be able to 
effect this, a thoroughly practised breaksman is required. 
xVow, a man may be a very good coachman, though know 
very little of his business as a breaksman ; but the latter 
cannot be fit for his business unless he is a first-rate coach- 
man; and he requires much more than this: he must per- 
fectly understand the habits and tempers of young horses, 
and, indeed, of all horses: he must have a clear head, quick 
apprehension, good temper, great presence of mind, strong 
nerves, strong but light hands, know every contrivance to 
thwart the intentions of \ iolent horse^, and the mode of 

20* 



306 PREPARATION. 

soothing timid ones: he must be able, from habit, to judge 
at once by the manners of a horse what he is likely or is 
preparing to do : in short, to judge at once what sort of a cus- 
toner he has to deal with. If he is all this, and, more- 
over, a civil, sober, and honest man, he is worth any wages 
he can reasonably ask to a respectable dealer or repository- 
keeper. He must be all this to suit Nickem (leaving out 
the honesty,) for, to suit him, he must be as great a rogue 
as his master: he must know by a turn of the eye of that 
master whether a horse is to go quietly or the reverse: he 
must not always even wait for this: he must have quickness 
enough to judge by the circumstances of the case what he is 
to do, as well as be equal to do it; and I can assure my read- 
er, to do it is much easier to talk about than to perform. 
But in case he should see a horse of his own tried in har- 
ness, and that he may be able to judge whether all is being 
done as it should be, I will give him the best information 
experience enables me to do on the subject. He will then, 
should his horse ?iqI go quietl}^ be enibled to judge whether 
the fault is in the animal, or arises from ignorance or design 
in those about him; that is, supposing the method I point 
out to be correct: of that others must judge, but I do not 
think I am very far astray. 

When a horse is tried for ihe first time, it is the usual 
practi("e to put him in double harness — 1 always try him 
first in simple, for reasons I will hereafter give; but this 
horse we will suppose to be going into tlie double-break, 
and that we hare time to do what we wish. Having been 
always fond of this sort of thing, I have, of course, broke 
many to harness for my own use, ten times as many for 
my friends, and, by dint of patience and perseverance, have 
seldom been beat even b}^ the roughest pupils. Where 
there are breaks, break-horses, breaksnian, and help at hand, 
>N hat I should do, expect, and, indeed, insist on being done 
with a horse of mine, would be this. The horse should be 
harnessed in the stable: this prevents him shying from the 
harness when being put on him. An open collar should 
be put on to avoid shoving one over his head and eyes to 
alarm him: the harness is then very gently put on his back: 
the crupper, of course, unbuckles at the side, so as to allow 
his tail to be easily placed on it, and let down by degrees: 



INSTALLING A PUPIL. 307 

this being done, the horse is to be turned round in his stall, 
and, with his winkers on, put on the pillar reins: he thus 
feels the harness, and o;ets accustomed to the winkers, 
which, of course, make every object come suddenly before 
him. After standing for a time, and reconciled to the feel 
of his new trappings, he should be led out, and let feel 
them hanging about him: then trotted, that he may also 
feel them more sensibly. When he is reconciled to this, 
and while he is being so, the break is got out, the break* 
horse in it, and placed in a situation, if possible, where a 
plunge or two can do no harm. He is then to be led up 
to the break, tlie breaksman having first ascertained, if he 
did not know before, what sort of a mouth he has. This 
nnv he judged of by laying hold of the cross-bar of tlie bit. 
The horse's own side of the driving-rein should be on him, 
so as 0[ily the coupling-rein is required to be fastened wlien 
he is put in. In forty-nine cases out of fifty, the driving- 
rein sliould be to the cheek with a raw or young horse, 
but sometimes, of course, even to the lower bar. On put- 
ting him alongside the break-horse, great caution is neces-^ 
sary to prevent him toucliingthe break hastily: the breaks- 
mail stands at the head of his horses to give directions and 
soe how things go on: one man is ready to pole-piece him 
loD-^ely up, while, at the same momenty another puts on the 
outside trace; the itiside one is not of the same conse- 
quence, as the horse is now secured. A man now takes 
the breaksman's place, caressing the young one: if he is 
very restless, let him lay hold of his ear. The breaksman 
jumps up; his break-horse, if he is a good, quick, and 
powerful one, which he should.be, either takes the break 
off quite gently, or will pull off Mr. Recruit, whether he 
likes it or not, as the breaksman wishes. The gentle mode, 
except with a very refractory customer, is always the best, 
the latter being a kiil-or-cure sort of business. A man 
runs alongside the young one to encourage him, and to 
keep his shoulder against him if he hangs too much out of 
harness. The pupil should be allowed to trot along with- 
out feeling either pole-piece or trace, till he begins to wish 
of his own accord to get forward; lie may then be allowed 
to do so. So soon as he has become a little steady, a mile 
is the most he should be driven, or his shoulders will pro- 



308 "HOOLY AND FAIRLY." 

bably be scalded. This would make him sh)^ of facing the 
collar again, and prevent a lesson next day. On coming 
home, the greatest caution is required in taking him out. 

The coupling-rein and inside trace must be first undone: 
then the pole-piece and outside trace, as in putting to, and 
care taken he does not touch any part of the break in 
going off. If this is done, very few horses will do mischief 
to themselves or any thing else. 

Having got home safe v/ith our horse in double harness, 
we will now put him or another in the single break. Of 
course the same routine as to harnessing must be gone 
through: he is brought with his driving feins on at their 
proper place on the bit; the break is to be placed where it 
can be easily drawn ofi': not up-hill, or on a thick straw bed. 
The horse is to stand till he is quiet: the break is then 
quite noiselessly to be drawn up to him, and gently let 
down on him. Three men are cjuite necessary to put him 
in ; that is, two, and the breaksman at his head. The 
traces, belly-band, and kicking-strap must be got on as 
•quickly but as quietly as possible. The gentleman is now 
caught, and with three men about him he cannot hurt or 
be hurt. One thing I forgot to mention, which should 
never under any circumstances be omitted in trying a horse 
in single harness; 1 may indeed say in double. A common 
flat-headed hempen halter should be pnt on under his 
winker-bridle, the rope or shank of which should be 
passed round and tied in a knot on the cross-bar of the bit. 
With this held by the man at his side, and a good pair of 
reins, there is little fear of a run-away, a thing most of all 
to be dreaded. The horse being in the break, the driver 
takes his place quietly; no touch of a whip, no cl — k even, 
to start him; one man is at his side with the shank of the 
halter in his hand: another, with one hand on the shaft and 
the other on the step-iron, is ready to ease the bre ik off 
the moment a sign from the breaksman shows it is time to 
do so. When it is, the man at the horse's head moves 
gently on, leading (not pulling) the horse forward; the 
other pulls, but by no means forces the break after him. 
If the horse hesitates, let him stand till he is inclined to 
move; when he does go, let him walk away, the nan at 
his side keeping hold of the halter; at a proper time coax 



A MASTER-HAND WANTED. 309 

him into a trot, the man still running by his side. When 
he goes quietly, let this man gently fasten the halter shank 
to the D of the hame, and leave the horse's side. He then 
quietly gets into the break, and the drive goes on. Should 
the horse stop, which is likely enough, let him stand: he 
will very shortly want to go somewhere. Let him, if it 
be possilDle, take any road he likes: no matter which way 
he goes, provided he draws the break after him ; he can 
easily be turned when going; but of all things, in harness 
or out of harness, avoid a fight with a horse till the last 
extremit3^ It is always a risk, and should be avoided. 
Our horse is now goiny; gently, so we will take him home 
and get him gently out of harness. 

Having attempted to show uhat should be done to make 
a horse go quietly, I will shortly show what I know is 
done to prevent his doing so. When this is the order of 
the dav^, as it requires a man that knows his business to 
make a restiff bad-disposed horse go quietly, so I can as- 
sure my readers a good deal of knowledge of the thing is 
required to make a good-tempered one appear the reverse; 
but it is to be done, even while the owner is looking on, 
and (unless indeed he knows as much as those employed 
about the horse) it will be done without his detecting the 
means used. It requires, however, quick fellows and 
workmen to do it, just upon the same principle, as that no 
half dozen men knowing little of music could, for the life 
of them, make half such horrii)le discord as the same num- 
ber of perfect musicians. Discord, indeed, the former 
would treat us to, but not such discord as the latter could 
make, if they chose to try. W^hy? because the same want 
of knowledge that would prevent the former making har- 
mony, would prevent their making the most perfect dis^ 
cord. 

We will try shortly if we cannot put our horse's tem^ 
per out of tune. 

I suppose that in my general intercourse with the world 
— by world 1 mean mankind — it has fallen to my lot to 
meet with about the usual varieties of tempers incidental 
to my fellow-men — that is, good tempers, bad tempers, in- 
fernal tempers, and intermediate tempers. There are some 
tempers so even and serene, that nothing short of ill-usage, 



310 TEMPERS POSITIVE, COMPARATIVE, AND SUPERLATIVE. 

injustice, or insult, can turn them from the even tenor of 
their way: others, that the slightest contradiction causes 
their owners to play porcupine at once, a habit that would 
be mighty pleasant in a wife, if the possibility existed of 
ladies showing temper. Then there are tempers that par- 
take so mych of that of the dark gentleman of horn and 
hoof notoriety, that, do what you will, they are not to be 
pleased or conciliated, wiio, as it is beautifully and figura- 
tively expressed, "get out of bed the wrong end first." 
(Quaere, what end is alluded to?) If we could suppose 
any thing so improbable and monstrous as a lady thus 
emerging from her couch, I can imagine an end on which, if 
presented, a very very leetle gentle tap or two might be 
allowable, as the only kind of pardonable or to-be-dreamt- 
of corporal punishment to be tolerated — a mode of correc- 
tion by far more manly (and agreeable,) both to the one 
who administers it and the one who receives it, than the 
brutal idea of " the stick the size of a thumb," allowed by 
a judge, who could never have tried my plan; for if he had, 
and did not prefer it, he must have been a very hd.d judge 
indeed, at least in such little or large matters (as the case 
might be.) Then there is the intermediate temper, which 
I consider belongs to such as are pleased enough when ever}'- 
thing is done to please them. From what I have seen of 
men, I consider the last as very tolerable and bearable 
tempers. We are bound in this world to do what we con- 
sider will be likely to be pleasant to each other in a rea- 
sonable way; and all I should ask of a companion would be 
to be good-humoured when I did so. I do not mean, if I 
cut off a man's ear, and he grumbled, and then if I took off 
a piece of his nose, and he grumbled worse, that I should 
bave any right to say, " do what I would, I could not please 
him;" but 1 do think I should not ask too much if I re- 
quired good-humour when I did what ought to please; yet 
I have often found my expectations in this disappointed. 
Now, I do what I can to please my readers. It may be 
that they may say my endeavours in this are analogous to 
the taking off the nose, because taking off the ear did not 
please: if so, the best thing I could do would be to take my- 
^^¥ off, for the fault would not be in the reader, but in my 
bad judgment as to what is likely to please. 



TEMPERS COMPARED. 311 

Horses hate their tempers as well as men: there are 
vicious, violent, and sulky tempers ; but justice to animal 
creation induces nie to sa}^, that in all domestic animals, the 
bad tempers bear no proportion at all to the good; and 
farther, I am quite certain, that, comparino; horses with 
men, I estimate Goth fairly in saying that the proportion 
of bad tempers in men to tliose in horses, are ten to one in 
favoiVr of the latter. In point of goodness of disposition 
between the two animals, the proportion, I am sorry to say, 
I consider much greater; for there is not one horse in a 
hundred that would attempt to hurt or annoy man, unless 
he first hurts him; and very seldom even then, unless 
fright makes him do so. Now experience convinces me 
there is not one man in a hundred that will hesitate in hurt- 
ing; or annovino' the horse, if interest or even convenience 
induces him to do it. I fear a very little more interest or 
convenience would render him not very nice about hurt- 
ing or annoying his fellow-man. But I allow I am not 
one of those who look on the august figure of man with all 
that veneration this said august personage generally con- 
siders himself entitled to: I am not exactly of the opinion 
of the poor Indian, 

" Who tliinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company:" 

but I do consider that no greater right was awarded to me 
to ill-use an animal than was given to the animal to ill-use 
me. But we are not novv on the subject of ill-using animals. 
I am only going, as I proposed, to show how, by a suc- 
cession of annoyances and rascally manosuvres for merce- 
nary motives, the temper of a fine and u ell-disposcd ani- 
mal may be roused to violence. Pray which is the greater 
brute in this case? I am afraid the august personage is not 
the more respectable animal. He certainly is the greater 
rascal: but without any absolute ill-usage, we will, as I pro- 
posed, put the horse in harness and out of temper. Gutta 
cavat lapidem, non vi, sed, &c. 

We will suppose a Mr. Nickem, for some reason, 
wishes it to appear that a horse is not likely to go quietly 
in harness: we will say he wishes to buy hira, which he 
perhaps might not be able to do if the owner thought the 



312 BRUTE-ALITY. 

horse likely to make one for harness: \ve will also suppose' 
Nickem is quite satisfied that the horse, if properly treat- 
ed, will go quietly; his worthy assistants know this too 5 
and they also know, if they allow him to do this against 
the wishes of master, that master would very soon find 
other assistants tliat would not: so of course the thing is 
settled. As the owner would not permit his horse to be' 
ill-used before his eyes, the effect wanted mus-t I)e produced 
by means that will not be detected by him, or at least not 
by one owner in fifty: if ho should happen to be the fifti- 
eth, who does know all about it, he is no customer for 
Nickem; for should the former put on his wide-awake hal^ 
Nickem may put on his nightcap. 

Having seen a horse put in harness that is wished to go 
properly and quietly, we will just see the difference of 
treatment with the one that is not to go so. The horse is 
first led from the stable to where the harness is hung in 
the yard. This a person might suppose is only done for 
convenience sake, or that it was thouglit a more safe place 
than a stall from there being more room. 

A plain round (not open) collar is put on, taking care it 
is full small for his head, so that there may be plenty of 
shoving to get it over his eyes. Nine horses out of ten 
are alarmed at a halter being passed over their head for tlic 
first time, even if it is gently done: what must one bt" v-^herr 
his eyes are really hurt by a tight collar? The horse na- 
turally runs back to avoid it, probably ajjainst some ob- 
stacle behind him, and thus he is twice frightened in the 
onset. The owner probably ventures to remark, " That 
collar seems rather small for my horse, does it not?'' — 
"Oh dear, no, sir; if it was larger it might scald his shoul- 
der: large collars always are sure to do it." This is true 
enough, but open ones can be buckled to any size (the 
owner perhaps never saw one:) so, after the horse has been 
shoved about sufficiently, the collar u- got on. Then, in- 
stead of putting on his winker-bridle, to prevent his see- 
ing the harness about to be put on him, his halter only re- 
mains: my life on it, he shies at the harness. He is then 
well halloo'd at for this, and of course more frightened by 
that. He is now restless and on the qui vive, watching 
every movement.^ " He'll be. a rummish customer^ I can 



DESPERATION. 313 

see," says one of* the fellows: and now, to show they all 
think so, the bridle is put on, curbed tight, the harness 
brought, and, instead of being gently laid, is thrown sud- 
denly on his back: this of course produces a plunge; the 
man at his head cannot suffer himself to be knocked down 
and run over — (Mem. all the better if he was) — so he gives 
the horse two or three severe chucks back with a tightly- 
curbed powerful bit: back goes the unfortunate horse, hits 
something again behind him, again rushes forward, when- 
lie gets again punished for doing this. The harness is now 
to be fastened, if it has not in the scuffle fallen oflT. The fel- 
low who is to put on the crupper approaches the horse to 
do so as he would an enraged tiger; lifts up his tail at arm's 
length, then jum])s out of the way, as much as to signify 
that he had a narrow escape with his life. The " terribly 
violent brute" is, however, harnessed: the fellow leads him 
on, pretends he has trod on his heel ; this is an excuse for 
an (apparently) necessary snatch at the horse's mouth again, 
which, with the harness hanging about, produces another 
bustle, and makes the bruised mouth still more tender. The 
horse is by these means worked up to a frenzy, and in 
this state is brouglit up to the double-break: but instead of 
this being done as it ought, he is let, indeed made, to run 
against the roller-bolt. This, likely enough, induces him 
to kick at it. The fellows now all shake their heads at 
him. '' I'd jist as soon you driv him as me, Jem," to the' 
breaksman; who, to show what a fine fellow he is. replies, 
" if they gived him the devit, he'd drive him : ht^ ar'n't sure' 
he hasn't got him now." 'I'he horse is now shoved a^^ainst 
the pole: this induces him to fling himself on the outside 
trace. Here is another fright and bustle: the harness lioid* 
him, it is true, and the only chance is his hurting himselfi 
The pole-piece is put on so short that if the break-horse at- 
tempts to take him off", the collar cames so suddenly on his 
withers, that he feels as if he was going to get his neck 
broke : he of course resists, hangs back, gets a smart stroke 
of the whip, plunges forward, and now the sore mouth 
tells ; for the moment he feels the bit, he again hangs back, 
and, not improbably, throws himself down. Seeing the 
present state of the case, the owner most probably desires 
his horse may be taken out of harness, quite satisfied he is 
27 



314 THE WORM WILL TURN. 

not likely to go: if so, Nickem's end is answered. If the 
owner wishes him still farther tried, he is pulled, pushed, 
and whipped out of the yard somehow, should the owner 
go with them, by making the break-horse thwart every 
inclination of the other to do right; and the unfortunate 
pupil being punished under the pretence he is trying to do 
wrong, he is set down as incorrigible. If the owner does 
not go with his horse, he is driven and brought back, two 
fellows running by his side, pretending to be out of breath 
from their exertions to keep the mcioiis bride from breaking 
every thing to atoms. The horse, on being taken from the 
break, naturally rushes away from it frightened to death, 
and thus corroborates the statements of those who went 
with him, that "of all the devils they ever saw, he was the 
worst;'' not forgetting to hint, that after their violent ex- 
ertions a little refreshment in the shape of drink would be 
acceptable. Thus in this world are often the innocent 
sacrificed and the guilty rewarded; and thus I fear it often 
is where man and man are concerned when power and vil- 
lany have only justice to oppose them. 

Supposing Mr. Nickem has succeeded in purchasing 
this made-viQ,\ous horse, the owner is surprised to see him 
a few days afterwards going in harness as quietly as his 
natural good temper would have made him do at first, if 
he had been permitted to do so. He expresses his surprise, 
but is told "they never had so much trouhle with any 
horse; did not think they ever should have made him go," 
&c. : Nickem "does not think any man but his breaks- 
man could have done it:" so it ends fn the gentleman losing 
heavily in the sale to Nickem: Nick nicking it pretty 
largely in the sale to some other' gentleman who wants a 
particular steady horse for harness; and Jem substantiating 
his own words that he would and could drive the devil. 

It is not merely in such places as I have represented that 
it is sometimes convenient to make a horse appear likely 
to be troublesome to break, either to drive or ride: those 
gentlemen yclept horse-breakers are quite awake to the 
trick, whether employed at a repository or elsewhere. 
Horses are broken usually for a certain sum, sometimes by 
the lessons. Now, if it is seen that a horse is likely to be 
easily broken^ the owner, after a couple of lessons, would 



NICKEM AWAKE STILL. 315 

think that a little practice and gentle usage would render 
him all he wanted: this would not do for the breaker's 
purpose; so, as in the other case, he must be made trouble- 
some: and should a specified sum be agreed upon before 
he is tried, the more violent he is made appear at first, the 
greater merit in the breaker in making him steady: so he 
gains the same vaunted character as Jem for devil-driving. 

There is another little item or two on the profit side of 
the question to be remembered. If a horse loses flesh 
while breaking, it may be attributed to his own violence 
and temper; so it is not the usual custom of these gentry 
to pamper him with too great an allowance of oats of 40 lb. 
the bushel, so they make the livery profit very like 10.9. 
per week. Then it is quite right young ones should be 
used to crowds: so after a horse is quite tractable, many a 
halfrcrown is made by mounting or driving (some one they 
can trust with the secret) to a fight or a fair. If the owner 
sees it, the breaker has had him there to make him quite 
steady before he leaves his hands! 

Let me tell owners another thing. In some repositories 
(but certainly never in respectable ones) many a man is 
mounted for a ride, who, if seen, is riding the horse on 
trial, or trying to ride. I can mention an instance. One 
of these on-trial fellows had a horse out, and it was known 
he would not be back for some time: the owner unex- 
pectedly and unfortunately (for the Nickem of the place) 
came in. A fool or an honest man, if he had been induced 
to do wrong, would be taken aback on such an occasion: 
not so Nickem : the gentleman was told at once '-his horse 
was sold and gone," and that the next day he might have 
his money. He came, but the money did not: ^' the horse 
had shied, thrown and nearly killed the gentleman; but 
supposing he did recover, Nickem would lose one of his 
best customers: the gentleman was a capital horseman, but 
no one could sit a horse that reared and fell backwards." 

No man can deny the truth of the latter truism : it is a 
summary sort of ejectment of an unpleasant occupant of 
the back, which, if horses were oftener to adopt, would be 
much to their advantage, and not unfrequently give soci- 
ety a fair chance of reaping advantage also. Besides, it 
woijld save a vast deal of trouble in plunging, kicking, ^c,, 



315 THE OLD GEORGE STEAMEE. 

which does not always succeed: the retrograde manoeuvre 
always does. People, like horses, often take a great deal 
of trouble to do that which might be done by some more 
simple process. I have seen a terrible scuffle made to get 
a troublesome fellow out of a house: this is bad taste and 
bad tact: how easy the thing is to be done! Put the poker 
into the fire (if it is not there already;) wait till it is a 
fine glowing white heat; present it within a foot of the to- 
be-ejectee's nose, quietly and in a courteous manner follow 
him, keeping your poker at the charge (no charge will be 
required;) my life on it my gentleman makes off in any 
required direction. 

This reminds me of an anecdote of a servant of mine: it 
may on a similar occasion be useful to ladies, so I will 
mention it. My wife had once been so long tormented 
by a milliner as to trimming a bonnet, that she determined 
to have it home finished or unfinished: she sent a note to 
this purpose by George (Old George as he was called,) ac- 
quainted him with its purport, with directions not to re- 
turn without the bonnet. On handing in the note, a writ- 
ten answer was handed to him : Old George knew a bon- 
net could not be contained in a small note, so demanded 
the former as an accompaniment. He was told to " go 
about his business" — this, to do him justice, was a useless 
order, for he never neglected it. — He considered his busi- 
ness in this case was to get the bonnet, and have it he 
would if any human being could get it. This his mistress 
well knew, and this he took upon himself verbally to let 
Mademoiselle know. He then quietly sat down in the 
passage: he was of course ordered out: Old George only 
grinned a ghastly grin (I never knew him laugh.) He 
was threatened with expulsion by some man to be called 
in : Old George only grinned more ghastly than before, for 
he was one who would have made most men grin who had 
tried this with him. He was at last told to "sit there till 
he was tired:" he only grinned at this either. Now 
George (whenever he could indulge in it) was a smoker: 
not one of your small Thames smokers; no, he was a re- 
gular Great Western, Great Liverpool, nay Great Britain 
herself, and always went provided for a cloud. Presently 
Mademoiselle and half her coterie came running down. 



A FAITHFUL SERVANT. 317 

There was Old George quietly but energetically puffing 
away, nearly invisible in the donse cloud, which had as- 
cended, as a hive of bees, he had fairly smoked them out. 
Words were useless, excuses equally so: he "only waited 
for his missus's bonnet." To send it home unfinished 
was annoying to Mademoiselle, but the smoke was intole- 
rable; so of course the bonnet was produced, and Old 
George gratuitously gave one of his best Sunday grins by 
way of a dormez-vous bieu, Mademoiselles! Poor George ! 
if I were to direct any man how to be most faithful and 
most honest, I would advise him to take thee as his mo- 
del: a grateful master oilers this small tribute to thy me* 
mory. 

I must confess I have made tolerably free hitherto with 
Master Nickem, notwithstanding I had the law of libel 
before my eyes; but like many men professing heroic 
feelings, i am heroic when no danger threatens; for who 
is Nickem? If any man or men choose to stand up and 
defend him, why then 1 say, "Bucks, have at ye all." 
Honest men will not: they will say, "Let the galled jade 
wince, our withers are unwrung." Poor Nickem! some- 
times, like the never-to-be-forgotten pack of Osbaldeston, 
with the immortal (would that he was!) Squire at their 
side, we have rattled thee along at the pace "that kills;" 
when at others, like the old Southern Bluemottles of Dor- 
king or Leatherhead notoriety, true to the scent, we have 
followed thee through many of the doubles thou hast made 
in any particular chase we have alluded to: but where the 
shifts of all sorts of game are combined in one, I know 
not the kind of hound adapted to the sport; so I will not 
promise a "kill:" all I profess to do is, to give an occa- 
sional burst: so here goes to "hit him off" again. 

I have mentioned before that some Repositories have a 
regular auction once or twice a-week. These at times are 
like the addenda or appendix to an author's work, when 
used merely to make out a book at the expense of the 
reader; when at others, like the codicil to a will, producing 
greater effect than all the preceding seven skins of parch- 
ment put together. Also like an outrigger, ugly to look 
at, but useful when roods run bad. Or like a unicorn 
team, qwkwnrd to drive, but not to be despised when the 

27* 



318 - CONVENIENT AUf'TlONS. 

option would be a heavy-loaded coach and pair. Now to 
do Nick justice, he is not disposed to be a slow coach: in 
truth, he goes over some ground rather too fast; and I 
have been showing some of my readers how to put the 
"skid" on without hurting their fingers. If they incau- 
tiously hum them in takmg it off, any little boy, who gets 
threepence a-week from the coachman for doing it, will 
teach them better. 

If I understand the term, " auction," it was originally 
meant (that must have been before tlie Flood) the putting 
property up for sale to be really sold to the highest bid- 
der. I have no doubt but that, if property of any sort was 
sent for sale in the true spirit of a sale by auction, and pro- 
per time given to acquaint purchasers of such that it was 
bond fide to he sold, such property would, in the genera- 
lity of cases, bring its fair value; but if three or four hunt- 
ers, however great their merits might be, were sent to be 
sold even by Mr. Tattersall, if they were iinknoivn horses, 
of course they would be, figuratively speaking, given 
away. Why? Not because auctions are bad places to sell 
horses at, but because hunters are sold for their merits, and 
of course people will not bid for merits that they do not 
know exist. But supposing (may it never happen to such 
men!) that Lords Wilton, Waterford, Maidstone, and many 
others, were induced to give up hunting, let lliei7^ horses 
be sent to TattersalPs, they would bring all they were 
worth (perhaps more:) they would bring their value, be- 
cause their relative merits as hunters are as well known as 
those of Dickey Misfortune as a pedestrian, or Euclid, as 
a race-horse. They often bring more, because men who 
buy such horses do not merely consider what the horse is 
worth, but what they choose to give to get him; and when 
such men thus compete with each other, the price is some- 
times astounding; and if such horsemen and such riders as 
I have mentioned and alluded to could be brought to the 
hammer, the prices they would bring would be a Utile 
more astounding still. 

Unquestionably a fair auction is where things are to be 
sold, and positively sold, to the highest bidder; and if 
deah'rs in the property on sale could be excluded, this 
might be done: but while they form a part of those who 



"who's the dupe?'' 31 <J 

attend auctions, it cannot, at least not in a general way. 
If dealers would fairly bid like other persons, their money 
is as good as that of those other persons; but this they will 
rarely do; they are a clique, a community, that hang to- 
gether, know each other's object, and combine to bring it 
about: so, if property was always put up for unreserved 
sale, what between their hints, their advice, their ridicule, 
and their bullying, half the company would be deterred 
from bidding at all; and as dealers would not bid against 
each other, property would be all but left to their tender 
mercy. Dealers will often say they give more for horses 
at an auction than any one else there: I know they do, no 
thanks to them: they do this when they are commissioned 
to buy for any gentleman: they will then employ each 
other to oppose each other, and this produces several good 
effects to them: it makes the public think there is no sort 
of combination among them; it holds the dealer who buys 
the horse harmless, whatever he may give, as he can say 
(nay prove) that D. of such a place, E. of another, and F. 
of a third, bid nearly the sum he gave; and he, and all of 
them, always wish a gentleman to pay enormously for any 
thing he buys that does not come out of their hands, as 
well as ivhat does. Let any one watch the dealers when 
a horse is at auction: a bid is made; he will see all their 
/aces turned immediately yro??z the horse and to the com- 
pany: he will see them peeping and peering about, stand- 
ing on tiptoe, all on the alert. This is to see who bids, 
for the who makes all the difference. If a dealer has bid, 
and they know he wants the horse for himself, they are 
not only still as mice, but my life on it they walk away, 
ps much as to say " We would not have him at any price;" 
pnd a word or quiz, loud enough to be heard, leaves the 
jiorse nearly in their brother dealer's hands. If they find 
^le has got beyond the price their chum intends to give, 
and they find a gentleman or gentlemen (as they would 
say) '^ sweet upon him," back they all come, and run the 
horse up: as the next best thing to throwing him into the 
hands of one of themselves is the making a gentleman pay 
far daring to buy of any one else. It may be asked if they 
n^ver get caught in their own trap, and get a horse knocked 
clq-wn to them at m.orc thnn his valijG? Certainlv some- 



320 A SELECT FEW. 

times they do, but very seldom; for they generally ean 
judge pretty accurately by circumstances how far they dare 
go in their bidding. When, however, they do get caught, 
it is no great matter: the loss {if any) is borne among the 
clique: so it is a mere nothing to each, and eventually it 
serves the trade. If two or three or more dealers know 
there is a horse to be sold that would, "at a priced ^ suit 
each of them, do not flatter yourself (if you knew this) that 
your horse, or rather yourself, will get a better price on 
that account; you will in fact get a worse; for it then be- 
comes the personal interest of all these to prevent it. He 
will be bought by any one of them Jixed upon, and then 
be resold by a kind of private auction among those who 
would have been disposed to bid for him. Mor is it in the 
power of any auctioneer to totally prevent tliis combina- 
tion among the trade, try what he will. No man endea- 
vours to do so more than Mr. Tattersall: he is always 
ready to show dealers every proper attention, civility, and 
accommodation; but his interest, his character, and it is 
only doing him bare justice to say his principles, make 
him at all times hostile to any thing he thinks looks like 
combination among them to the injury of gentlemen. If 
he had not done this, the '^ Corner " would long since have 
been deserted by them, instead of being, as it is, and has 
been for more than half a century, the resort of all the 
aristocracy of this kingdom, and that of others (when here) 
who make horses one of their pursuits. 1'his would ren- 
der any panegyric on Mr. Tattersall or his establishment 
quite useless on my part, if I wished to write one, which. 
1 in no way contemplate. I mention the establishment 
among other things: I have no earthly interest in what I 
say of it. It is true I have been known to Mr. Tattersall 
from a boy (though not as Harry Hie'over;) but I never- 
received a favour from him in my life, and dare s.ay never- 
shall. It has moreover happened I never had occasion to» 
sell or buy half a dozen horses in his establish n:ient; and 
certainly never bought as many by auction in London in 
any other: but I think my estimation of Mr. R. Tattersall 
is pretty near the mark, when I say I should as soon sus- 
pect him of making a guinea by any means that could he 
construed into bordering; on what was dishonourable, asji 



^iCKY GOSSOP, DICKY GOSSOP TS THE MAN." 321 

could conceive him neglecting to make it where it was to 
be got in a perfectly honourable way. I think I could 
scarcely prove my perfect conviction of his integrity more 
strongly. 

Mr. Dixon's Repository I have been in perhaps a dozen 
times, never but once on business: it is quite out of my 
beat when in London. I once attended the sale of a 
friend's horse there, received every civility and attention, 
and the horse was sold in a satisfactory way. Here ends 
my knowledge of Dixon's. Mr. Robinson's I never was 
in in my life. Aldridge's " Avot was," I once bought a horse 
at, and on that occasion, and also once at the King Street 
Bazaar, I have great pleasure in mentioning the urbanity 
of manners of Mr. Haughton: here ends my knowledge of 
London horse auctions. Doubtless there are Nickems 
enough in London, though not at the places 1 have men- 
tioned. I am but a yokel ^ I allow; yet people in the coun- 
try are not all as green as their trees are. 

But whether in London or the country, let us return to 
friend Nickem, and see how he would manage with a horse 
placed in his hands to be sold, if not by private sale, by 
auction. I think I see him chuckling at this double chance 
afforded him. Now where there are a couple of hundred 
horses put up every week by auction, a man can go per- 
fectly straightforward, and must make money; but where 
his average is perhaps twenty, those twenty must be twisted 
and turned so as to stand in the place of two hundred, or 
how is Nickem to live? If he was an honest or honour- 
able man, the twenty would starve him; but Nick wonU 
sturve; to prevent which he does nick them; and I fear 
there are not many who would prefer losing their money 
and time as men of integrity to making money as he does. 

Nickem, by way of a little every-day dinner, prefers a 
dish of crimped skate, some calPs head, a teal, and some 
fritters, to pickled pork and greens: so do I; I hate pork. 
Whether in Nickem's situation I should prefer eating the 
abomination, as an honest man, to dining as Nick does, my 
friends must judge: but at all events Nick does not relish 
the porcine dish, and in fact won^t eat it; so his customers 
must find him something better. To get this, he must side 
with dealers, for they would be too strong for him. He 



322 "give me a cur of sack." 

goes in this ease upon a liberal principle — viz. "live and 
let live" — just as a single man's servant in lodgings allows 
the landlady to crib his master's hj^son (and indeed every- 
thing else,) while she in return never hints that Tom, or 
Wilson, or IMorbleu, as the name may be, charges master 
nine shillings a pound for what he buys at seven. Thus 
they take their tea very comfortably together: this is social 
and liberal. I hope I have the germ in me of these feel- 
ings, but 1 have a dogged kind of feeling that I m.ust say 
makes me wish to be so when and to what extent I please; 
or in short, as I mentioned of Liston, to " mix for myself'^ 
I am quite willing to let other-s do so; but then I must not 
be expected to pay for the melange as in the following 
ease. 

I sent vAj groom and a helper with my horses to a town, 
wishing to get a fortnight's hunting with some hounds 1 
wanted to see. On bringing in his week's bill there was 
about the usual fair charges for ale and an occasional glass 
of grog; Init one evening there were three glasses of brandy- 
punch at \s. 6d. per glass, and share of three bottles of 
mulled spiced port at 6s, per bottle. 1 thought this a leetle 
too strong — not the punch or wine, the gentlemen who 
partook of it could only judge of that — but I thought the 
assurance of the thing very strong indeed. The expres- 
sion of my disapprobation was very strong also. It was 
certainly very humbly represented to me, that he ^*had 
spent the evening with Lord So-and-So's servants, and 
two or three Baronets' and first-rate men's servants, and 
he thought I should not like him to be shabbier than they.'' 
I added, " it was a bad example to my other man, who 
was much younger." I was told, however, with every 
appearance of most indignant feelings, that " Tom was a 
very good stableman, certainly," but as to the "example," 
he "hoped I did not think he had so far forgot himself as 
to introduce Tom to his company!" I burst into a hearty 
laugh at this: the laugh made me allow the charge, but I 
informed my gentleman he must drop these growing aris- 
tocratic notions, and in future, if he mixed for himself such 
expensive ingredients, he must a\so pay for himself. 

Nickem likes mulled spiced port; so do his friends the 
dealers: they also like their customers to pay for it, and in 



TOUCH NOT THE TRIBUTE MONEY. 323 

most cases they make them do so; and to do this they 
must work into each other's hands. They of course never 
oppose Nickem whenever he wislies to buy, and he aflbrds 
them facility when they wis-h to do so. Should they both 
wish for the same horse, it is m.anaged very easily. 
Whichever it is decided shall be the purchaser takes the 
lot, the other " stands in." Now standing-in (begging the 
gentlemen's pardon for the comparison) means the same 
thing as one thief stealing the property, the other sharing: 
the profits of the booty. But this is not often done, as 
Mr. Nickem is rather jealous of being known as a pur- 
chaser; and still more jealous of ptitting himself in the" 
power of his friend, whose honour he knows, when put m 
competition with Ins interest, is about on a par with his 
own. There is, huwever, one little advantage Nick has 
over the dealer, and of course over any one else purchasing" 
and selling in his Repository. This J mention as a pro- 
found secret; indeed 1 do not sai/ it ever is done;- I increly 
insinuate that there is a bare possibility of its being dis- 
tantly coniempldled^ for in fact it would be a breach of 
honour on Nick's part towards government; and we must 
not suppose any thing so truly monstrous as making a 
shilling at government's expense. None of our great men 
do it, ever have done it, or ever will in future. There are, 
I know, people who say great men have done such things'; 
nay, are daily doing so now: but those who promulgate 
such reports are only malignant, hypocritical wretches, 
deserving stripes, banishment, and every misery tha-t flesh 
is heir to. I do not accuse even Nick of such peculation, 
but there is no harm in saying what might be done. 

In some repositories the purchaser pays the auction-duty 
of one shilling in the pound; in others, the seller pays it. 
This, it will be seen, would make no. difference in the ad- 
vantage Nick might contemplate. If the dealer buys a 
liorse at 40/., and has to pay the duty, he stands him in 
42/.; if he buys one where the seller pays it, this is consi- 
dered by the seller, and he prices his horse accordingly: 
so the dealer virtually pays the 2/. just the same, as the 
owner would have taken 38/,, where he had no duty to 
pay. Now if Nick buys, he stops the 2/., from the sellef 
©n paying him: if the purchaser pays, he draws it h&wi 



324 THE lion's share. 

him; so either way Nick gets 2l. in his hand. Some peo- 
ple (like the malignant ones I have mentioned) might say, 
they wonder if the 2/. ever leaves it. I say, of course it 
does; it goes to government, unless in the hurry of busi- 
ness he might on such an occasion forget to pay it over. 
Should he do so, there is 2/. as clear as 2/. can be. Now, 
in selling again, suppose Nick should sell a horse for a 
dealer at 45/. for which the dealer had given 40/. the same 
day: the dealer would^ in one case, have to pay out of it 
40.?. duty, 45.S. commission to Nick for seUing him, and 
say 2s. to Nick's men, making 4/. 7.9.: so he would only 
get 13.S-. profit after all. If the dealer bought where the 
owner pays the duty, he would make 2/. Is. by his pur- 
chase, but, in the latter case, he would have given 21. more 
out of the horse's value than where the buyer pays. So 
the 51. additional is not always to be got; if he takes 3/. 
advance on the price, he still makes but the \Ss. or there- 
abouts. Now, if Nick buys, he has 2/. in hand, which he 
may forget to hand over; he stops of course 2/. more for 
selling the horse to hiimself. If he is fortunate enough 
to sell him at 45/., this really looks like 9/. made — at least 
many people will think so; but I say it is only 7/., for such 
is my confidence in Nick, that 1 say he will not forget the 
2/. duty: I would bet my life he would not fokget it,, 
not he! 

Let us suppose Nickem not to be able to bring down the 
price of a customer's horse to what he wants him at: he 
advises his being put up to auction, and says, " Very likely^ 
sir, he may bring more at the hammer than I am offered 
privately." V^ery likely he would if Nick would let him;f 
but Ae Z6'6>«'/, and that makes '^ all the difference." 13ut 
how can he prevent persons bidding if they are disposed 
to do so? He certainly could not; but he can make them 
not disposed to do it. I'he dealers and Nick's friend will 
not of course do it; persons who do not want the horse 
won't; so it is only a few, at most three or four, or per- 
haps only one, that will. These are generally easily got 
over, for the horse is carefully watched in the stable; so 
any one looking at him is very soon "made all right" by 
those employed for the purpose. The man in charge of 
him sees what is going on quick enough, so he works in 



FAS EST AB HOSTE DOCERI. 325 

the good cause. If any one looks at the horse, he steps 
up, begs the gentleman " not to take any notice of what he 
tells him" — (he would be wise if he did not) — but adds, 
"the pipes won't do for you, sir;" or "the lamps are going;" 
or any thing he pleases to say: so he f^ets a half-crown for 
his honesty, and is thought a capital fellow, the gentleman 
loses it and a good horse into the bargain, being, however, 
perfectly satisfied that Jem, or Tom, at Nickem's will al- 
ways give hh/i a hint. Doubtless he will, if he is fool 
enough to take it: not but that it is good policy in any 
man who often buys horses at any particular place to give 
these fellows five or ten shillings if a purchase turns out 
well, for you then have ten chances in your favour against 
the n)an who does not: he is sure to get " a dig'" if they 
can put him in the way of it; you will not, unless it is 
their better interest to assist you to one; but as, generally 
speaking, it would not be, your money will be well laid 
out. 

Nothing can seem more fair than Nickem's proposing 
to give a horse the chance of the auction to facilitate his 
sale; and so it would really be if he gave him a chance; 
but he will not; for the reason he recommends the sup- 
posed trial is merely to damp the owner's hopes by letting 
him see that (say) 25/. was all that was bid for a horse for 
which lie expects 40/. If the horse belonged to NicU or 
his friends, he and they would take very good care this 
should not be the case: they would not put it in any one's 
power to see or say that only so much was offered for him; 
nor need this be done, if the agent wishes to do his duty 
to his employer, for he can try how much is bona fide bid, 
and if he finds a sum very short of the price asked is only 
offered, it is quite easy for him to run the horse up to 
something near the price asked. This really assists the 
sale, as people will think, if they hear 35/. bid by auction, 
that 40/. cannot be any great deal more than he is worth. 
For the auctioneer to do this, it may be said, is contrary 
to the true spirit of an auction. I know it is: so is people 
combining to get others' property at less than its fair value. 
But, if buyers will do what was never contemplated when 
auctions were first set going, the auctioneer is compelled 
to fight them at their own weapons: nor is it any blot upon 
28 



326 NICK RETURNING TO HIS FAMtLY. 

his character that he fights the good fight for his employer. 
If he is forced, in some cases, to overstep the strict rule^ 
laid down for his guidance, in arder to promote fair deal- 
ing, the fault is not in him, but in those who by their con- 
duct compel him to do so. But I am now alluding to an 
honest, honourable man: no fear of Nickem incurring any 
censure for any one's interest but his own; and though 
we must not, as a general maxim, say the end justifies the 
means, a man's motive in an act makes all the difference 
in the culpability ot justification of it. That in the long 
run "honesty is the best policy," is an allowed truism? 
but then " best policy" does not always include making 
money. Many circumstances may combine to prevent a 
man doing this in an honourable way; but if he does not 
make, or if he loses, money, he may preserve his character, 
self-esteein, and the good wishes and good offices of his 
friends; and this is "■ best policy," far which he ensures a 
certain good. Nickem thinks otherwise. The opinion on 
such subjects depends on the proper or vitiated State of 
men's minds. Many rogues do make money, it is inie^but 
not always; and, as it is said in the Rehearsal, " suppose 
the audience should not laugh," where are you then, 
friend Nick? The only thing for you is to tuck your coat- 
tails over your arms, and walk yourself off to your name- 
sake. You are too known a screw to be sold even- at= your 
ow^n auction, though the Devil was the auctreneer. 

I have now given many hints, many opinions, and some 
instances of what may be and what is done by some men 
in the horse world. I introduced these subjects, by pledg- 
ing myself to tell the truth, and nothing but the trirth. I 
have done so: 1 have, I dare say, mentioned many thing-s th'ai 
a large proportion of readers "dreamt not of ''' What I 
have mentioned I know, but I have by na means men- 
tioned all I know. I have mentioned m'any of tlie mo- 
tives that influence the actions of a certa-in class of rogoes, 
and some of the means b}^ which they brfng them about: 
but I might write for the next twelve months, aifid still 
leave many unnoticed. I never promised or contemplated 
making any one a match for a rogue: I might as well at- 
tempt to teach him to write like Sir Walter Scott. I must 
go to school again myself, and make much better use of 



RECOxMMENDING MERIT. 327 

my time than I have done, to succeed in either. I have 
read, and have by heart also, many of the beauties of the 
one: I have seen and have by heart also many of the ras* 
calities of the other. 1 may point out to any man still 
less read than myself, the works of the one for his admira- 
tion: I may also point out to those who have .^een less of 
the thing than I have done, what, by arousing their suspi- 
cions, may assist in saving them from being deceived and 
victimized by the oilier, as they might have been by such 
means as I have particularized. This is all 1 have attempted. 
If we teach a man as many of the indications of an approach- 
ing storm as may induce him to get under shelter in time, 
it is enough for him, unless he wishes to become an as- 
tronomer or natural philosopher: so, if he is told enough of 
the practices of such fellows as Nickcm to shelter himself, 
in this case it is enough also; for I presume no man would 
wish to study rascality. If he does, I am quite as inca- 
pable as I should be unwilling to be his tutor: in this "the 
patient must minister to himself." Should he, however, 
wish to prosecute his studies quite professionally, I shall be 
happy to point out to him several adepts who can give him 
that higli finish in roguery, only to be learned under the 
best masters. Should I have the high honour of meeting 
any individual wishing thus to finish his education, if the 
meeting should take place in Oxford Street, or at the Cor- 
ner (on sale days,) the probability is I may be able to 
point out one who has been enthusiastic in his pursuit of 
knowledge in the art of Nickemising, and completed his 
education on the Continent: permit me to recommend him 
as a master. Nay, the lad who accompanies him in his 
gig is quite competent to bring on a young pupil : the mas- 
ter \\\\\ finisJi him; so he will a customer, if he has much 
to do with him. I can point out many capable masters, 
but I love to notice /?«r//c?</^r/?/' transcendent merit! 

What in-ormation I have got in such matters as I have 
alluded to, has not, I can assure my readers, been gained 
free of expense: it is a medicine I have been forced to 
swallow: some of tiie pills were, I allow, very nicely sil- 
vered, others gilt; but, unfortunately, it was my silver and 
gold that I swallowed. The phials were very neatly tied 
down with crimson paper, and the labels beautifully written : 



328 A GOOD POSITION IS HALF THE BATTLE. 

this did not make the contents the less nauseous. I soon 
became intractable, and would swallow no more: and now, 
though not an M.D., former dosing has rendered me so 
aware of kind intentions, that the korsc pharmacopolist 
who could persuade me his bolus was a preserved cherry, 
or his dark-coloured draught Chateau Margaux, must know 
something of his business. 

If, from what I have written, I may so far have aroused 
the suspicions of my reader as to prevent his being impro- 
perly dosed, my time has not been ill-employed. If I have 
induced him to avoid the charlatan, and apply only to the 
honourable and able practitioner, I have done some good: 
and should he be so unfortunate as to unwittingly apply to 
the former, if I have shown him enough of the appearance 
of his drugs as to induce him to refuse a deleterious draught, 
it is well also; but far better is it if I can persuade him not 
to trust to such knowledge, and in all circumstances to ap- 
ply only to such men as will render any knowledge of the 
iniquitous practices of rogues uncalled for; and men of ho- 
nour and integrity are to be found in all professions, and 
even in trade. 

Under any circumstances that may induce a person to 
send a horse to a repository, let me advise him first to con- 
sider whether he is a competent judge of his value (for 
what he may have given has nothing to do with it:) if he 
is not a judge of the value of horses, in the name of com- 
mon sense let him consult some one who really is ; for as 
at least three fourths of buyers pay more for a horse than 
he is worth (in the market,) so three-fourths expect a 
salesman to get them a price the horse will not bring when 
thus offered for sale. This ends in disappointment both to 
the agent and the owner. If you go to a respectable man, 
tell him candidly all you know about your horse, his fail- 
ings as well as his merits ; if he really knows you to be a 
man of good temper and good sense, he will (if asked) not 
object to give an opinion of the price you may expect, or 
something very near it: and under such circumstances he 
should be allowed a discretionary power to either take 
what he considers the first fair offer, or to hold the horse 
over if he feels confident of getting a better. Of course 
this discretionary power and this attention to his advice 



HALF A LOAF BETTER THAN NO ^READ. 329 

and judgment, must only be awarded to a man known to 
be one of integrity. 

If you send a horse to a man to whose general conduct 
you are a stranger, the mode of doing it should be this : 
first get the horse examined by a known veterinary surgeon : 
it is lO.s. 6V/. generally well laid out, for you may fancy you 
know whether he is sound or not : if you do, there is not 
one owner in ten who does. You may know he is not 
dead-lame, blind, or broken-winded ; but there are many 
things very short of any of these that will make a Profes- 
sioxAL very properly reject a horse as an unsound one. 
It therefore saves time and expense learning this before- 
liand. Send your horse with a ivrilten description of his 
qualifications and his price ; say he will be left with Mr. 

so many days for sale ; and if not sold by that day, 

he will be fetched away. Desire no offers may be commu- 
nicated to you, as you have made up your mind, and sent 
his lowest price; and state he has passed a veterinary 
surgeon as sound. All this will show an honest man what 
to do ; and it will show a rogue you are not one to be played 
with. I might be asked whether a Nickem would not, even 
in this case, begin some of his tricks? He 7night, but I 
should say he would not; for there are so many with whom 
he can do so with impunity, that he would not run the 
risk with one vyhere it seemed likely he could not; and if 
he has reason to think you are not one he can bamboozle 
out of 20/., he will rather get his commission by selling 
your horse, than only get the bare livery ; so he ivill sell 
him, or at least try to do so. 

I have endeavoured to give my reader sufficient hints of 
the proper and improper practices of dealers and repository 
keepers to enable him to judge a little of what is intended 
by either. I have stated many things that may be done 
by any one in the horse trade, also many things that are 
sometimes done ; let me entreat him not to imagine they 
are ahvays done. 

A man conversant with the thing might write a treatise 
on the mode by which property is abstracted from our 
persons by pickpockets : this docs not make pickpockets 
more numerous, or need wo, clap our hands on our pockets 
whenever we meet a person in the street. Pockets are 

OftV 



330 VALE. 

occasionally picked, and by pick-pockets ; men are occasion- 
ally robbed, and by horse-dealers of different sorts: but 
the difference of the case is very wide indeed. The pick- 
pocket knows how to pick your pocket, and always do it 
if he can : the dealer may know how to do it also in his 
.way; so does every tradesman, but they do not always do 
it; and f am happy to say there are many who never do. 
I grant the horse trade affords great facilities for imposition 
and rascality — perhaps no trade more so : the greater the 
merit then of those men who tread a path so beset with 
temptations, with credit to themselves and integrity to their 
customers, who would scorn the practices of a Nickem as 
much as they would and do the perpetrators of them. Such 
men — and I could point out many — are as worthy objects 
of the esteem of the public, as they are for the imitation of 
their less conscientious brethren in the same avocation. 
This I give as a hint to (including the foregoing hints on) 
horse-dealers. 



I 



331 



GENTLEMEN, GENTLEMEN JOCKS, AND GEN- 
TLEMEN'S GENTLEMEN. 

In venturing my crude thoughts on gentlemen, I am 
quite aware that to the liberality of mind that forms so 
prominent a feature in the attributes of the gentleman I 
alone can trust as a shield against those animadversions my 
incompetency to the task may subject me. On this libe- 
rality I throw myself in carrying out my very delicate task, 
trusting that, from the general tender tenor of my writing 
on less difficult subjects, where in the present case 1 may 
be in error, it will be attributed to error of judgment only, 
but in no case to a wish to offend any class of society col- 
lectively. 

Some gentlemen-jocks may feel offended at what I may 
say of them; let me remind them that 1 speak collectively; 
nay, could bring individually some instances in refutation 
of my general classing of them. This, however, does not 
in any way invalidate the correctness of my definition en 
masse. 

From the gentlemen's gentlemen I expect no suffrage: I 
neither expect nor ask it at their hands. If I asked any 
thing from them, it would be merely that they should feel 
satisfied that to the best of my ability and judgment I would 
do \\\^vi\ justice; but this I do not anticipate; for though in 
the play of «/o/i;^i Bull we are told that "justice is justice," 
it is only enlightened minds that will allow it is so when 
levelled at self. 

Severe would be the infliction on my mind if I could 
accuse myself of having, in any thing I may have written, 
wounded the feelings of any worthy individual; and still 
greater would be my chagrin if I had done this by any of 
the patrons of the Original Sporting Magazine. To- 
wards them I owe a heavy debt of gratitude. Arhong them 
are many men of high education, superior talent, and prac- 
tical experience. I am quite aware, therefore, how much 
I owe to their forbearance in having abstained from ever 
manifesting any disapprobation of my heterogeneous scrib- 



332 TRUSTING TO OUR LUCKY STAR, 

blings. That they are scribblin^s, any one who saw my 
manuscripts as sent to our worthy Editor would con amove 
allow. How on earth the}^ are ever made out I know not; 
but I suppose whoever overlooks them — like the hounds 
Beckford tells us of who would ^'hunt any fhing^' — can 
?'ead any thing. That they are scribblings put down at 
random as thoughts strike me is the best excuse for their 
numberless inaccuracies. 1 never even make a fair copy 
— some may say it would be better if I never made an ori- 
ginal — if 1 revised what I have written, I dare say I should 
often not muster courage to allow its being printed at all. 

My father, though one of the neatest and best horsemen 
in England, and a capital rider of a flat race, besides being 
for fifty consecutive years an enthusiastic fox-hunter, never 
could face a regular yawner in his life: so he sometimes 
said of me, who never presumed to hold myself a "first- 
flight man," that "he believed his son in riding at fences 
shut his eyes, and put his trust in Providence." I do 
really something like this in sending my scribblings to 
Warwick Square. I send them ofl', first trust to the inge- 
nuity of those destined to make them out, and then to the 
good-nature and forbearance of the reader. 

One of the terms used in the heading of this article bears 
at once the stamp of sporting origin — namely, gentlemen- 
jocks: that of gentlemen comes before us in a n^ore ques- 
tionable shape; whereas the gentleman's gentlemen is (or 
rather ought to be) a kind of monstrosity that requires ex- 
planation. But in allusion to gentlemen as a topic for a 
sporting journal, when we reflect that among the thousands 
that read Maga the majority is composed of gentlemen, 
and that they are the chief supporters of sporting in its va- 
rious branches, it must be admitted tliat whatever bears re- 
lation to them is quite in place in a sporting journal : so, to 
carry on the chain of connexion, those who make sporting 
their chief pursuit must keep animals to enable them to 
enjoy it: and as they must also keep persons to take care 
of these animals, those persons become objects of conside- 
ration also: but, as iq duty and inclination bound, let us 
begin with the gentleman, leaving, as they do in hospitals, 
the less influential patients to wait to be operated upon — 
as a friend of mine used to say, "they will keep." He 



"'tis but opinion, after all." 333 

was a surgeon, and a very skilful one, an excellent fellow, 
and moreover a true lover of fox-hunting; but the conse- 
quence of the latter propensity was, that he was at times, 
when wanted in his business, what he was always when 
going across country — very difficult to catch. 1 do not 
mean that he neglected his patients: his heart lay in too 
good a place for that; but he sometimes, as he called it, 
" bottled them," if hounds came within his reach, that is, 
such patients as he used to say "would keep." Now I 
trust the gentlemen-jocks will keep — the gentleman's gen- 
tlemen shall keep, as Sterne would say : so we will bottle 
them up for a time, though they may become a little corked 
by our so doing. 

In comparing any two or more objects, I conceive the 
first thing to be done is to define precisely what constitutes 
each in its separate and relative position; and then I con- 
clude, though I never learned systematically either writing 
or arithmetic in my life, that by a little addition, subtrac- 
tion, and division we shall come at the dividend of each. 

To this end let us first consider what is a gentleman? 
Many may say that every one knows what, or rather who 
is and who is not a gentleman. / fancy / do; but I am 
quite prepared to expect that many who may read my 
ideas on the subject will say I do not. Probably they 
may be right; but as my fancying I do know what con- 
stitutes a gentleman is very far from proof of the fact, so 
their opinion to the contrary is no certain demonstration 
that I do not. If gentlemen coincide in this opinion, I 
bow with submission to their decree, for they are compe- 
tent judges of each other. 

To expect or hope for the concurrence of all classes in 
venturing an opinion on any subject would be the height 
of arrogance and folly: the very old fable of the old man, 
his son, and the ass, teaches us thus much; the old Latin 
saying, ^'-fruslra lahoret qui omnibus tentat placere^^^ 
corroborates it; and daily experience stamps the seal of 
conviction on our minds of its truth. If, however, every 
one suffered this to deter him from giving an opinion or 
promulgating his ideas on any point, the effect would be 
that no new light would be thrown on any subject. It is 
discussion that brings forth truth; and he who modestly 



334 "WHEN DOCTORS DIFFER," ETC. ETC. 

puts forth his opinions, and subjects them to the criticism 
pf those better informed, I cannot but hope really benefits 
society. I say I hope, because such are the feelings under 
which I venture m)^ imperfect impressions. I cannot hold 
any man merely stating his ideas, or the impression made 
on his mind by any circumstance, to be guilty of an act of 
the smallest presumption, unless he does so in such a man- 
ner as to lead to the supposition that he considers his opi- 
nions incontrovertible, or that he wishes or expects those 
opinions to be the Jiat by which others are to form theirs. 
Of this charge I not only hope, but confidently trust I 
stand acquitted in the minds of my readers. I feel at least 
I am innocent of such inattention. 

I have to crave pardon of my readers for the egotism I 
jiave been guilty of; but 1 felt it necessary in entering on 
n subject the most difficult to handle to one who never 
wishes to offend. If I should therefore say any thing, that, 
taken '^ ad hominem^'' may hurt the pride of any one, let 
me entreat him to attribute it to impressions made on my 
mind by the given opinions and sentiments of my pro- 
genitors, that have " grown with my growth, and strength- 
ened with my strength:" if those sentiments are wrong, 
jny teachers were more in fault than I. 

If we were to ask fifty men in fifty different grades of 
society, and different occupations in life, each to give his 
definition of what constitutes the gentleman, it would be 
fqund that very few, if any of them did coincide in their 
ideas. Fifty men of the same class would perhaps very 
nearly agree on this point; but unless they were of the 
same class, they assuredly icould not. Therefore the 
utmost any one can hope who ventures on so ticklish a 
task is, that his opinions may meet corresponding ones 
among those in a similar standing in society to himself, be 
that standing what it may. 

When Mr. Hercules set himself about cleansing certain 
Augean stables (not kept quite as stables are now-a-days,) 
it will be allowed he undertook a toughish job; but as he 
was a toughish sort of gentleman, it only required time on 
his part to ensure its completion; and having completed it, 
he was certain of commendation for his pains: not so the 
poor wight who attempts describing the gentleman: he is 



AN UN-1!AISIN-ACLE TUDDIXG. 335. 

sure of the labour; also sure of the reprehension of some 
one; but as for the commendation, he is fortunate if he 
gets it from ani/ one. I do wish Master Hercules had 
undertaken this job — many may say they wish so too, 
and may also think I should have been better employed 
shovelling away while he wrote: but as he did not, I sup- 
pose I must attempt it. 

It is not easy to define any thing definitely ; some may 
think it is; and by the way of a sample of talent I will ask 
them to define a plum pudding: they may say they could 
do it merely by the six following words, '^a pudding with 
plumS in it." This certainly is a plum-pudding; but sup- 
pose I choose to make one with only one plum in it, this 
would also be a plum-pudding: if so, what becomes of their 
definition? They may say there never was one made 
Avith only one plum in it: granted; but that is no reason 
there never may; and, in fact, let them try a school-pud- 
ding; they will find that by way of a great treat they may 
get something very like it, and in these hard times, but 
for Sir Robert Peel's tariff, they would probably, ere this-, 
have been treated with the identical thing itself. 

The mentioning a plum-pudding and a gentleman in the 
same sheet ma}- appear somewhat incongruous, I admit; 
but the incongruity is not altogether so great as may be 
at first imagined, as the latter very often partakes of the 
former in one way, and I must confess sometimes in 
another. In the first case, he is a pudding-eating gentle- 
man; in the other, a pudding-headed gentleman; but they 
bear a closer affinit}^ than this, inasmuch as it requires 
many good and expensive ingredients to make either a 
perfect plum-pudding or a ]>erfect gentleman. Certes to 
make the school-pudding, the ingredients are not usually 
great in number or particularly choice in qualit}^ Though 
no pupil of Ude or Kitchener, I will venture to give a re- 
ceipt for a school-pudding: in fact, I could make one. I 
will afterwards try my hand al a gentleman. In this I 
may probably fail; bt^t if this dish was produced by some 
one else, I think 1 coiild form some faint idea of the style 
of man employed in its concoction. But for the benefit 
of all or any of those intending to set up a school^ I will 
give the promised receipt for the pudding (,the alct stagers 



336 GRACE (viz. grease) before meat. 

know it well enough:) — fiour (not of the best quality) in 
proportion to the number of boys or young ladies (for the 
latter the quantity somewhat less bad, but not much ;) 
water tt discretion (of any body;) fruit a discrelion of the 
mistress (who is always in this most discreet;) suet or any 
unctuous matter (the produce of last week's cooking) to 
help down the delicious composition; to be, in forntd me- 
dici, "taken'' before the meat — {Mem. as a choker to save 
the latter,) What a blessing of Providence the same hand 
does not make the leg of mutton ! All that can be done 
here is to get it tough enough; but young teeth are tough 
as well as the mutton, and mutton can only be got tough 
to a certain degree, otherwise the young gentlemen and 
ladies would come home feather weight " in spite of their 
teeth.'' On whatever subject 1 venture to write, I always 
do so from practical experience, the only excuse I can 
make for writing at all ; so I do in this matter, having paid 
close upon a hundred a-year for such indulgence in two 
different schools; in return for which I shall probably pay 
my respects, but not in the Sporting Magazine, to those 
finger-posts, to juvenile minds yclept preceptors and pre- 
ceptresses — Mesbie%irs, Mestla^nes, et Made'moiseUes, au 
revoir. 

Let us now see what ingredients we want to make a 
gentleman. If we ascertain that, we may possibly do a 
something to alleviate those heart-burnings so often felt on 
the occasion of races to be ridden by gentlemen, and those 
by gentlemen-jocks — for 1 really consider the qualification 
or disqualification of a man to ride where gentlemen only 
are intended to do so, to be as clear as the difference be- 
tweea a known half-bred horse and the thorough-bred one 
— I say known, because we pretty well know that we do 
not know how half the half-bred ones are bred. 

I have said it required many rare ingredients to make a 
gentleman; that is what in every sense of the word must be 
held as a perfect gentleman^ These ingredients 1 conceive 
to bcygood family, good ed^ication, good society, good man- 
ners, and good conduct. These I consider constitute a gen- 
tleman. If we add to these, polished and winning address, 
and can-iage,! think we see something like a jye?yec/ gentle- 
man. That a man may be a gentleman without possessing 



«' UNHEAL MOCKKUY, HENCL !" 337 

all these advantages, or by possessing them in a Very mode- 
rate degree, we all know, and courtesy allows the title to 
many such. Personal merit and superior talent very pro- 
perly in many cases break down the barrier between the 
m^n of family and the plebeian, and every liberal mind 
must rejoice in seeing the latter burst those bonds that 
held his forefathers as serfs to his more aristocratic bre- 
thren. If, however, fortune only has elevated him (which 
in a commercial country it may do) to a rank in society 
to which his most sanguine hopes never aspired, let him 
remember he owes it to no merit of his own. If superior 
talents have done this for him, the high attributes of Such 
a mind should teach him that there are numbers of hi^ fal- 
low-men in whose bosom lies the germ of all his qualities, 
but, from its having fallen on a more Sterile soil, wants the 
means to burst forth: and, above all, let him remember 
that no men despise the advantages of birth but those who 
do not possess them ; and that in those who profess to do 
so, it is at best but a vulgar bravado, a feeble and futile at- 
tempt to depreciate advantages they cannot enjoy. 

1 trust that those who may have so far flattered me as 
to have read my fugitive thoughts and opinions on various 
subjects, will give me credit for not intending to venture 
a treatise on the relative position of the gentleman and the 
plebeian, but will feel convinced I never attempt any 
thing like a treatise on any subject: but as in gentlemen- 
riders and gentlemen-jocks, the term gentleman will be 
brought in question, it becomes necessary tof nnySelf that 
my ideas of what a gentleman is should be known, other- 
wise I should make, at best, but a viatiere embrovilUe 
of the vvhole. Fortunate will it be for me, if, in treating 
on so delicate a subject, I escape with no stronger manifes- 
tation of displeasure. I have said, Tnany or some might 
think six words would define a plum-pudding; 1 really do 
think I have shown they would not. Many think a gen- 
tleman as easily defined; but they would equally find 
themselves in eVror; for the opinions of the attributes of a 
gentlemsn varj' in accordance with the Source from which 
they emanate. Pindar tells us the betiii ideal of one of 
his heroes of a gentleman w.iS the eating "fat pork and 
riding on a gate." I once heard a gentlemarr described as 
39 



33S LIONS. 

"he who had money, and tha will (o spsnd it.'^ The ha^ 
nest bluff countryman says, "he's a p;entlcnian that l-.eep.*» 
his horse, and pays every body their own." The low 
tradesman thinks the nice young man quite a gentleman 
who wears showy waistcoats, clothes in the extreme (con- 
sequently out) of fashion, and pays him. The worthy 
keeper of an inferior lodging-house holds up ])er lodo;er as 
a gentleman if he allows her to cater for him, and conse- 
quently keep her family out of the cribbiiiij^s at his ex- 
pense. ]Viultifarious and equally erroneous are the opi- 
nions formed of gentlemen by .inferior people. Erroneous 
they must be, because the generality of such persons are 
rarely brought in contact with gentlemen, consequently 
have no criterion to appreciate them by. The three best 
judges of a gentlen^ian I should say must be first, gentle- 
men, who of course judge of others by themselves; next, 
first-rate trades-people, because in trade they are in the ha- 
bit o>f s<3fcing their manners- and habits; thirdly, superior 
servaats, who see gentlemen and gentlewomen (ladies, as 
inferior persons always call them) throughout the day. A 
cheesemonger w^ould. consider himself highly offended on 
being put on a par with a servant. Doubtless he is held 
in the world's estimation as the most respectable and re- 
sponsible person — Mem. quaei-e in both cases, but particu- 
larly in the latter? — but supposing, him to be both, he is 
not as competent a judge of a gentleman. How should he 
be? he probably never saw one at table or in a drawing- 
room in his life (unless he crept up the lamp-pOvSt to get a 
peep.) The servant iTas- seen the thing daily for years, 
and could give a tolerable high-life-below-stairs imitation 
of the manners, and certainly of the habits of his master. 
Our worthy cbeesemenger would have about as cleap a 
conception of a gentlemaa mounting the well-lit well-aired 
stair-case lined vvith exotics of a woman of fashion, as he 
would have of a crocodile forcing his v/ay through the 
reedy banks of the Nile. The Egyptian or Ej:iglish ani- 
mal, placed in the situation of a gentleman, would, I con»- 
ceive, be about equally out of their element, and on their 
names being announced would create- a boivt an- eq,ual sensa- 
tion; doubtless they would be the Ho us of the night. 
Supposing the sketch I ha\'e so slightly drawn of the 



GENTLEMEN BY COURTESY. 339 

gentleman to be tolerably true to nature, or rather to the 
receired opinion of society (I mean society compose^l of 
gentlemen.) I conceive that any man, unless he possesses 
the most overweening vanity or obtuseness of intellect, can 
decide for himself how far he does or does not possess the 
requisites of a gentleman, and by so doing^ave hinTself t'he 
mortification of repidse when he attempts to step wifhiti 
that magic circle that encompasses aristocracy. Superior 
talent and superior worth mTiy cause his being tolerated, 
nay, invited within its prescribed limits, but neither gives 
the rii^ht to enter there. These limits are not like those 
of the rainbow, so softened down that they can hardly be 
ascertained: but are clear and definite, however much per- 
sonal vanity may mislead people. Were it otherwise, dis- 
tinction in society would be lost. This would certainly 
be one mode of doing away with any disputes as to gen- 
tlemen, gentlemen-jocks, and regular jocks; but as we have 
not come to that state yet, we will see whether there is 
not a better way of settling this oft-disputed matter. 

Whether I understand the character of gentleman or not, 
the definition I have given must decide; but that of a jock 
I certainly can estimate, as he is neither more nor less than 
a servant regularly engaged to one or more persons to serve 
him or them, or one ready to be engaged by any one re- 
quiring his services. The first character I will not pre- 
sume so far as to say I have defined so as to be beyond 
contradiction; the latter I certainly have: at all events I 
think it will be conceded to me that a gentleman is not a 
professional jock, and equally that the professional jock is 
not a gentleman. We now come to that anomaly styled 
gentleman-jock. We might as well say gentleman-dust- 
man. If some gentleman who could ride a race as wtII as 
a professional jockey was so reduced in fortune as to be 
obliged to have recourse to riding for the public as a mean 
of support, we might very Appropriately style him a gen- 
tleman-jock, because he would be both a gentleman and a 
jockey, and perhaps such a character exists; but in a gene- 
ral sense the term is inappropriate and absurd. If a kind 
of intermediate character was intended to be specified, I 
can only say I should consider him a most useless one;' 
jfo;* he would no|;; by habits, standing in society, or proba- 



[MO GENTLEMEN BY RIGHT, 

1)1}^ manners^ be a fit associate for the gentleman, nor would 
he, in point of ability, be able to compete with the jockey. 
To render races to be ridden by gentlemen select, latterly, 
they are in some cases specified to be ridden by members 
of such a hunt or hunts, members of such clubs, or officers; 
this I consider as hardly fair; for a man may be a perfect 
gentleman, and not come under any of these denomina- 
tipns: he would therefore be without any good reason ex- 
cluded. I think we might put the thing in a more tangi- 
ble and definite position, if races were appointed to be ridr 
den by gentlemen, yeomen, or jockeys. This would make 
three clearly different characters of riders,- neither of which 
pould interfere with the other. I conclude the first inten- 
tion of races to be ridden by gentlemen was of course as a 
means of gentlemen running and riding their own horses 
among themselves, to the very proper exclusion of the 
professional rider, with whom, of course, in ninety-nine 
rases out of a hundred, gentlemen would have no chance. 
Those appointed to be ridden by gentlemen-jockeys were, 
I suppose, intended to let in a middle class of persons, nei- 
ther quite gentlemen nor quite jockeys. The instituting 
amusement for all classes is doubtless both laudable and 
praiseworthy, be those amusements what they may; and 
certainly no set of men have a greater right to share in 
sporting amusements than respectable country yeomen, for 
on the forbearance, good humour, and good feeling of such 
men, much of the sporting amusements of the higher orders 
depend. They are therefore entitled to have every facility 
given them in enjoying similar entertainment, and races 
for yeomen-riders would afford this desideratum. There 
could be no objection to gentlemen riding with the yeo- 
men, or gentlemen or yeomen riding in the same race witl^ 
jockeys, if they v^ished it, or fancied themselves equal to 
the corqpetition; but as a jockey is a definite term, there 
could be no chance of his being put up to ride with either 
the gentleman or yeoman: it therefore becomes desirable 
to prevent the yeoman attempting to ride with gentlemen 
in gentlcmen''s races. 

Having attempted to define the latter, let us see how we 
can define the yeoman, a character that I consider in his 
relative position in society to be as highly respectable as 



^'take any foum rut this." 341 

tlic first magnate in the land; perhaps oftentmics a more 
useful member of that society: but all this does not make 
him a gentleman, or in a general way a fit associate for one. 
The day-labourer, who supports his family by the sweat of 
his brow in a decent manner, is, so far as bare respectabi- 
lity goes, as respectable an actor on the world's wide stage 
as the Duke of Devonshire, or any equally exalted charac- 
ter: but respectability does not make a gentleman: it is a 
term we do not use as applying to them (1 am sorry to say 
we sometimes cannot:) we infer that a gentleman is of 
course respectable, and the saying he was so would be no 
more a compliment to him than if, in speaking of a vir- 
tuous woman, we were to say she did not walk the streets 
or lobbies of Drury Lane Theatre. 

In some corroboration of this I beg to mention an anec- 
dote of a friend of mine. He was a man of good family, 
good education, and some talent. On going to reside for 
some time in a large provincial town in which he had no 
acquaintance, he mentioned this circumstance in presence 
of a person I have named, in the course of what I have 
written, as holding a prominent situation in the sporting- 
world as a man of business and high integrity; so his busi- 
ness-ideas led him to think that in a letter of introduction 
given to my friend he did his best in describing him as a 
very respectable man. The letter was open, so my friend 
of course saw the contents. Many persons'would think 
he ought to be gratified by such a recommendation ; so far 
from being so, he flew into a great rage, on reading the ill- 
fated, or as he considered, ill-worded letter. "Respect- 
able!" cried he several times over: "respectable, indeed! 
Was he a gentleman and styled me respectable, I would 
have him out. Did he suppose I wanted him to tell peo- 
ple I was not a thief!" I need not say the letter of intro- 
duction was never delivered. 

Respectable, so far as it regards tradesmen and yeomen, 
is as high a term of commendation as can be applied to 
them; and if they would be content with being respectable, 
without wishing to be thought (as they term it) genteel, or, 
in other words, gentlemen, their banker's account would per- 
haps, often be better filled, and the bankrupt nccount in the 
Gazette he \ess so: but this craving for a something \\x\- 

^9* 



343 "A man's a man for a' that." 

possessed ruins half the world, and is the means of render- 
ing thousarids as much below respectability as my friend 
held himself above it. 

This makes the gentleman-jock want to he a gentleman, 
and creates a wrangle if refused to ride as such. 1 think 1 
need scarcely trouble my readers by a description of the 
yeoman; by the term yeoman we generally mean to im- 
ply that most respectable set of men called, in other terms, 
gentlemen-farniers. Here, a^ain, the term is inappropriate, 
for it leads to misconstruction. Why, in the name of 
common sense, is the term gentleman to be tacked on? 
We never hear of a gentleman-merchant. If the term 
gentleman-farmer means to irnply a man who farms his 
own land, or a part of it, then the owner of a two-acre 
field is a gentleman farmer, and so is the Duke of Bedford: 
we might as vvell style him and others nobleman-farmers 
to describe them. They are noblemen who choose to farm 
their own land, but it would be ludicroqs to style them 
noble or noblemen-farmers. The gentleman of large land- 
ed estates, who keeps all or a portion in his own hands, is 
a gentleman who farm.s those lands; but we should not call 
the late Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, merely a gentleman-farm- 
er ; he is, or was, a gentleman — the farmer need not be 
added: nor to a common farmer, because he happens to 
own the land, or a part of the land he cultivates, can we 
appropriately add the term gentleman: he is 2i farmer, and 
no more. Why can he not be content with so respectable 
a denomination, without aiming at a title to which he has 
no pretensions, and in doing which he most probably ren- 
ders himself ridiculous, and challenges his own mortifica- 
tion? The gentleman is a gentleman, whether he farms 
or not; the others are large or small farmers, and not gen- 
tlemen. 

When I have mentioned the term yeoman, I have done 
so because I knovv of no other word that could so effec- 
tively describe a person as being neither of the lowest 
class, a prqfessional jock, or a gentleman; but I trust I will 
put it in the power of any man of common sense to de- 
cide for himself whether he is entitled to ride in a gentle- 
man's race or not. We will suppose a race to be ridden by 
gentlemen in Lord Wilton's park. Let a man wishing to 



COMING TO THE POINT. 343 

ride in that ask himself this simple question : ^' Am I a man 
thai the noble patron of the races could, without any de- 
reliction of etiquette, invite to his table to meet his lady and 
friends? If conscience and common sense say yes, he is 
fit to ride in such a race: if conscience says no, he 
has no greater right to feel either hurt or offended in 
not being allowed to ride as a gentleman, than if refused a 
seat at the dinner table. It may be said he might fancy 
himself fit for both situations: if a man is a fool, nobody 
can make him otherwise, and he must abide the conse- 
quences: if he is a sensible man, the criterion I have given 
whereby to estimate his pretensions will suffice. If, from 
too much or too little modesty, he is in doubt, let him con- 
sult a gentleman, and he will set him right. If he never 
rode for hire, he is certainly not professional ; if he is not 
fit to dine at a nobleman's table, he is not (in every sense) 
a gentleman. What then is he? a man in the middle 
ranks of society — a yeoman — till we find a better term to 
designate hini by; and, consequently, if fond of riding 
races, may ride vvherever he pleases, but not in races to 
be ridden by gentlemen only. 

In noblemen or gentlemen's parks, races to be ridden by 
Corinthians are all very well, quite in character, and very 
appropriate amusernents. They may also, of course, add 
races for farmers, and tenants, yeomanry and cavalry races, 
and any races they please. Such meetings afford amuse- 
ment to perhaps thousands, not merely on the day or days, 
but for months in prospectu, and also in recollection. 
They do a great deal of good; they shoAV a wish on the 
part of an influential man to afford amusement to his te- 
nants, neighbours, and dependents, as well as to his friends; 
and I glory in seeing a man mount a horse for one of such 
persons, and, as Lord Howth would, do his best to beat 
his own friends on farmer Such-a-one's nag. This pro- 
duces a proper kindred feeling between superiors and their 
less affluent neighbours, who, if they are worth pleasing, 
will not presume on such condescension. But to institute 
races to be ridden by gentlemen on public race-courses, I 
must consider useless, if not worse; for I cannot see any 
good that can possibly result from them; but a great deal 
of bickering, jealousy, and frequently dispute, is all but the 



544 "BE THOU FAMILIAR, BUT BY NO MEANS VULGAR.'' 

sure result. I have heard that the coal-shipping interest 
is supported so strongly on the consideration that it is a 
nursery for seamen, a kind of pap-boat institution for our 
jolly tars. This I doubt not is quite right and judicious; 
so would it be to have races for gentlemen, if we meant to 
make the occupation of a professional jock that of a gentle- 
man; but till this is contemplated, I must consider that 
private race-courses are the places for races including pri- 
vate gentlemen only. Races excluding professional riders 
even on public courses are quite proper; it gives amusement, 
and gratifies the harmless vanity of many who may wish 
to be seen in silk, and cannot make this little display of 
emulation (for I will not call it ostentation) on private 
courses: but then let such races be open to any rider not 
professional. If a gentleman wishes to ride in these, he 
can do so, and there can be no degradation in his doing it: 
if there was, he must not ride with hounds; for whether a 
man rides over a country side by side with his inferiors, 
or whether he rides over a course with them, cannot 
make any difference as to putting them on an equality 
after the chase or race is over, nor need either produce any 
intimacy during their continuance; on the contrary, the 
bringing the noble or man of birth and fortune in tempo- 
rary contact with the plebeian must produce a beneficial 
effect if the conduct and manners of the former are consis- 
tent with their station in society, for the latter will then 
see a superiority, and, at the same time, an urbanity of 
manner, in his superior, that will challenge his respect and 
goodwill; at least, so it ought to do. I am quite one to 
deprecate the " toe of the tradesman treading on the heel 
of the courtier;" but that gentleman must possess little of 
the tact of one if he suffers the mere riding a race with his 
inferiors to bring on any improper familiarity. There is 
among gentlemen an extreme politeness that they know 
how to bring into play [when wanted,) that keeps the in- 
ferior in his proper place, without his being able to account 
for his feeling flattered and kept at a distance by the same 
conduct: so any fear of the clashing of different classes of 
society by gentlemen occasionally riding in races with 
their inferiors, I cannot conceive as likely to occur. 

I am wilUiig to allow, and have before said, that I con«. 



*" ROMEO, ROMFO, WHEREFORE ART TIIOU ROMEO?" 345 

slder we have A few gentlemen who can ride a race nearly 
as well as our best professional jocks, and much better than 
some of th? professionals; but the number of such gentle- 
nien (from want of practice only) must be very small. In 
a race among gentlemen I have often seen one or two ride 
beautifully; but I must say I cannot challenge my memory 
with ever having seen seven or eight gentlemen ride to- 
gether where on the whole the race was even tolerably 
bidden. It is something like a provincial theatrical com- 
pany, where two or three are equal to better things, the 
others not equal to any thing. Where I knew every 
gentleman going to ride, and every horse, I should cer- 
tainly feel great interest in the race; and, though I should 
not tell them so, perhaps a great part of that interest would 
be the seeing how some of them would ride. I think I 
can give m,y reader a little hint if he ever contemplates a 
bet where gentlemen ride — "never mind the horse; back 
the mon^'' — unless the race was between Alice Hawthorn 
and The Duenna at equal weights: even then, I think, put 
Lord Howth on The Duenna, 1 could mention some gen- 
tlemen who would get Alice Hawthorn beat; and yet I 
have seen such men ride their own horses, and when they 
coqld, those of their neighbours. As to an}^ gratification 
in seeing such a man as the latter ride, it must only be 
similar to that of seeing Romeo Coatcs perform for the 
amusement of the public. By having races for gentlemen 
on public courses, we only substitute a bad race for a good 
one, without producing the end intended, if any thing good 
was intended by them, namely, affording amusement to 
those who could not get it elsewhere. I must, therefore, 
consider that at such places the only different classification 
of riders required is professional and non-professional. 
We have no fox-hounds for gentlemen only: why then 
races? The nobleman and gentleman ride when with 
hounds with horse-dealers, tradesmen, farmers, butchers, 
and even a chimney-sweep, and no harm arises from it: if, 
therefore, they wish to ride on public courses, no more 
harm or familiarity could arise from riding with the same 
persons in a race. In either situation they do not ride as 
companions of such persons: we might as well wish to have 
one side of the public street set apart for gentlemen. If in 



34G CONDESCEND, BUT NEVER DESCEND. 

riding a race a gentleman preserves the manners and con- 
duct of one, he need fear no contamination: if he does not 
so conduct himself, the contamination might be feared by 
the other part)^, if they do. A gentleman would be no 
better four-in-hand man from learnin"; the low slang or 
adopting the manners of a stage-coachman, nor would he 
be the better rider for adopting the manners of some jock- 
eys. A gentleman, avoiding the common and most mis- 
taken idea of some, that it behooves them to be all in all — 
the coachman or the common jockey, might ride by the 
side of either all his life, and would find them to touch 
their hat to him as respectfully afterwards as if he had not 
done so. If a gentleman never farther derogates from his 
character than by merely riding (if he would venture to 
do so) in the same race with professional jockeys, he will 
do well enough: if he thinks not, then (and perhaps he 
does wiser) let him ride with his equals only, and in places 
where his equals do ride. 

Public race-courses are places for the amusement of the 
public at large: that public all in some way do a something 
that supports the races, for they all cause a circulation of 
money there, consequently have a right to be amused. 
Now 1 imagine gentlemen in riding there do not contem- 
plate amusing the public by making Tommy Noodles of 
themselves; and if they fancy they gratif}^ the public by 
their fine riding, I will venture to say nine out of ten fail 
in the latter way, however successful they may be in the 
former; and I must say I should strongly advise friends 
(and 1 have no right to advise any other persons) not tQ 
ride on a public race-course unless they are good enough 
to ride with public jockeys; otherwise they are only about 
as welcome an interruption as it would be to have intro- 
duced between the acts oi Hamlet, where Kemble and Mrs. 
Siddons were playing, an interlude for amateur actors. I 
never saw those great actors; but I conceive they would 
have been good enough for one evening's gratification with.- 
ouii\\Q other interesting addition. An amateur perform- 
ance in a nobleman's house is an intellectual and sometimes 
a gratifying; exhibition; but do not treat us with it at Drury 
Lane, where we expect to see Macready,Kean,and such per- 
formers. A gentleman's race is a very pretty thing i^ i(§ 



A DOCTOR WANTKI). 347 

place : it teaches men to ride; and when they can ride, as 
some men can do, they would ji;ratify the public by show- 
ing; theiiiselves; but do not pray inflict on us an exhibition 
of those who cannot, .md whose riding would be a laugh- 
inj»; matter to every one bui their hurses. 

If, therefore, in any public race the only distinction be- 
tween the jocks was professional or non-professional, none 
of the wrangles as to gentlemen-jocks would arise, and 
this is all the distinction the public wants or sporting re- 
quires: at least, submitting, wiih deference to the opinions 
of others, I conceive it to be so. I am sure of one thing; 
it would prevent a great deal of ill-feeling. among the sport- 
ing world, and to promote so desirable a result (or, I siiould 
rather say, to induce some more influential person to do so,) 
has been my chief aim in writing the foregoing pages. I 
in no shape pres-ume so far as to consider" mj'self of import- 
ance enough to effect this. If I ever get so much credit 
as to be considered one of the wheels that set the machinery 
in motion, my utmost hope will have been realized. The 
gist, therefore, of what I have written \ conceive amounts to 
this— that races to be ridden by gentlemen are quite proper 
in their proper place: races to be ridden by any one but a 
professional jock, equally useful and proper in theirs; and 
of course (so long as sporting exists) races to be ridden by 
professional jocks quite necessary to the sporting world: 
but for the sake af that sporting world, let these several 
races be defined. If I have not shown that they may be so 
defined, my time has been thrown away, and tlie patience 
of my reader taxed to no purpose. 1 have pointed out 
what I conceive to be injudicious (it requires n€ great abi- 
lity to do this:) let me hope an abler pen will have influence 
enough to produce a remedy. I paint oCit the disease, 
suggest to the best of my abilities what I consider an ano- 
dyne, but I submit to the physician: if he prescril>es well, 
few of his brethren will better merit their guinea. 

We now come to that most strange, most monstrous 
anomaly, the gentleman's gentleman, a kind of gentleman 
I should never have mentioned but from the fear, that, un- 
less some check-rein is put on them, they will not be con- 
fined to the dressing-room, but we shall be getting a spu- 
vious sort of them in our stables. We shall have riding 



348 "to make a wash would hardly srEW a child.'^ 

boys wanting Mareschino before they go out to early ex- 
ercise if the morning happens to be cold; and a Whip 
sporting his best Havanna and flask of Curagoa by the co- 
vert side: so we shall then have ge7itlemen-\\hips: a pretty 
mess we shall then be in. Let us have gentlemen jockey^, 
and servants, but let us have no gentlemen-jocks or 
gentlemen's-gentlemen. The term certainly never was 
applied to servants generally; and when it has been applied 
to a certain grade of menials, whether it arose from the 
affectation of some one who wished it to be thought he 
never let any thing short of a gentleman "come between 
the wind and their nobility," I know not; but it certainly 
in any case is a ridiculous term. A man of fortune, of 
course, requires his linen well aired, the fire in his dressing- 
room kept up, his clothes laid out ready for use, his dress- 
ing apparatus at hand, and many minor little offices done 
for him that others wot not of: but I must think a respect- 
able man is equal to do this; for we are not to suppose a 
gentleman wants to be edified by the opinions or Senti- 
ments of his servants. Perhaps the term originated with 
some be! esprit among the fraternity, who enjoy the privi- 
lege of giving an opinion on what combination of cosmetics 
(according to the moment) may best serve their lordly 
master's complexion— ''to this complexion we must come 
at last" — or the term may have had its origin from some 
man of common sense, who invented it in derision of the 
common dress, manners, habits of life, contemptible and 
disgusting arrogance of these gentlemen: but the term has 
been used, and about as sensibly as that of gentlemen-jocks, 
be its origin what it niay; and really those habits of indo- 
lence, impertinence, and expense that formerly were con- 
fined to these gentlemen's gentlemen, are making infoa^is, 
ay railroads, in the minds of ordinary servants, and are 
going on under high pressure too. Show me a' mote in- 
sufferable insolent imp than' the present "tiger,'' lou^rvging 
by the side of his master like a woman of ton m her car- 
riage: still, to be stylish, he must do this. It shotrld seem 
that some men conceive that the more arrogant their ser- 
vants are, the more they add to their own iclat, as if they 
meant to say and let it be thought, that "though the fellow 
may show impertinence to some poor devil of only a few 



THE INSOLENCE OP OFFICE. 349 

hundreds a-year, he dare not do so to me.^"* No doubt me 
is a most uncommonly fine fellow; but where he permits 
his servants or his pet tiger to be insolent to all but him- 
self and immediate friends, Mr. Tiger should get a sound 
thrashing for his trouble; and if his conduct was defended, 
I know somebody else who would well deserve the same at- 
tention. There can be no doubt that superior persons re- 
quire superior servants, and of course must give superior 
wages; but where wages are given to the amount they some- 
times are, and where idleness and impertinence are permitted 
to the extent they are, the effect on a common mind is to 
convert that most useful,A'aluable, and respectable character, 
a trusty servant^ into a dishonest, insolent jjrofligate. 
Nor does it end here: not content with being this himself, 
if he comes in contact with a respectable and valuable ser- 
vant, the latter is made the butt of the former vagabond 
and his companions, with Mr. Tiger at their head. Good 
servants (and there are plenty of them to be had if we get 
them from the right school) are inestimable treasures, as 
much so as good friends. We ought to be the friends of 
such, and consult their real comforts and even feelings 
much more than I suspect is often done: but the place to 
consult the feelings of the servants of many of our families 
of fashion is the carVs tail: such servants are the pest of 
the public. Show me the servants, I will pretty accurately 
guess at the habits of the family they serve (I should rather 
say are employed by.) 

I remember an anecdote told me of a gentleman's gentle- 
man who went to be engaged: he was told that when port 
or cherry was left after dinner in the decanters, it was al- 
lowed to be used by the superior servants. " Of course, 
sir!" said he; "and I suppose if a friend comes in, you do 
not object to the butler drawing something better." — 
"Why, you impudent scoundrel!" said the gentleman; 
"my son here, who is a captain in the army, could not ask for 
more." — " I dare say not, sir," said the fellow; "we pity 
many of those gentlemen, and often wonder how they get 
on at all!" I think most persons will agi'ce with me, that 
if the gentleman had taken such a fellow into his service, 
(and there are those who would have done so,) he would 
have been rightly served if he had his house robbed. That 
30 



350 CHANGE PARTNERS AND POUSSETTE; 

a vast number are robbed by the connivance of such ser- 
vants is well known. Idleness and high wages lead such 
minds to vice; that leads to extra expense; and that to the 
result I have mentioned. The master in such cases is 
more to blame than the man. From whom do such women 
as regularly frequent the lobbies get a great portion of their 
support? Not merely from shopmen and apprentices, but 
from gentlemen's upper servants; and if men of fashion 
were to stoop so low in their amours, they would much 
bftener than they suppose /o//oic their gentlemen. 

How different are the servants of a well-regulated noble- 
man or gentleman's establishment,of which there are many? 
These get high wages, of course, and well many deserve 
them. There is an air of respectability in their ct)ndU6t 
and manner which shows they know their duty, and that 
they do it: they command your respect by the respect they 
show where respect is due; and whether in the house, the sta- 
bles, the kennel, or the garden, whatever is done is well done. 
Where the conductof the family corresponds with their rank 
in life, that of the servants will in theirs be upon the same 
principle: where the master or family are scampish, the 
servants will be the same; and we may fairly describe 
those of such a man by saying, half the men are rogues, 
and half the women something else. If such heads of 
families knew the inferences drawn from the conduct of 
their servants, they would be convinced of the very bad 
taste they exhibit in tolerating the existing insolence of 
demeanour of their people. Idleness in a servant may be 
pardoned, because allowed habit may have brought it on; 
drunkenness may be overlooked, if we have allowed batl 
example to bring it on: even dishonesty, if rt has arisen 
from improper temptation having been left in the way; but 
impertinence in a servant to ani/ one admits of no excuse. 
I am quite sure even the apparent trifling circumstance of 
permitting a certain style of dress contributes tawards it. 
I allow that a servant's hand covered while waiting at 
table may be more congenial to aristocratic eyes than one 
bare; but surely white kid gloves at 3.9. 6f/., which can 
only be worn a very few times, might (with a servant) be re- 
placed by cotton ones: and surely stockings of the same 
material would answer the purpose of silk! Plaster yoir? 



BRINGING THEM OUT IN RIGHT FORM. 351 

v«?ervant all over with worsted, silver, or gold lace, if such 
is the taste of the master, and his wish to show gorgeous 
and expensive liveries; hut what is worn by the guest I 
cannot but consider improper for the servants. Give him 
stockings of silk, if you please, at a guinea a pair, but let 
them be something like those of the livery of the late 
Duke of St. Alban's (if I remember right,) black with yel- 
low clocks. This is the badge of servitude, and soine 
badge of that sort servants should wear. But then what 
would become of gentlemen's gentlemen? why, they would 
be in the same place where gentlemen-jocks, in racing 
phrase, should be, nowhere; and a very good place too for 
them, though a very bad one for a promising Derby colt. 
But gentlemen's gentlemen are generally cattle of no pro- 
mise: I wish I had the handicapping them. Though I 
might seriously diminish the weight of their self-estimation, 
I promise them they should not carry a feather over the 
course they have hitherto run, I would bring them out fit 
to go, but without quite as much "waste and spare" on 
them. I would attend to their health, I warrant me. I 
would also attend to all their proper comforts and happi- 
ness; but they should not become catfish and tricky. 

Let us have gentlemen : let us have yeomen, plebeians, 
or the middle classes (by whichever or whatever name 
you choose to describe them :) let us have jockeys, and 
servants; but let the line of demarcation between the grades 
not be done (in stationer's phrase) in faint lines, but in 
a good honest, broad, black one. The higher grades 
would not then (as they now are to a certain extent) be 
compelled to treat the lower with unbecoming hauteur, 
from a fear of a too near approximation; nor the lower 
grades be perpetually struggling to attain that unattainable 
(and to them unnecessary) title, ''gentleman:' By each 
adhering to his proper station, each would receive the pro- 
per respect due to that station. 

Let us therefore still have races to be ridden by gentle- 
men, races to be ridden by farmers, yeomanry, and of 
course, as usual, races to be ridden by jockeys; but in lieu 
pf races for gentlemen-^ooks, let us substitute races for 
such horses, at such and such weights, jockeys or hired 
servants excluded This would be all that I conceive 



352 A CONCLUSION- 

could be meant or wanted; and doing away with the term 
genlleman-jock (which must ever be an equivocal one,) 
would admit any man not hired or professional, and, what 
is much more desirable, would not admit disputes about 
qualification, as the qualification in this case would be 
clear and defined. 

Let us then hope to see gentlemen's gentlemen turned 
into servants: gentlemen-jocks may be turned to grass; 
but as they are a kind of mongrel breed, let them first un- 
dergo a little operation to prevent their producing fresh 
stock. I think then, coachmen having left ofi* aping the 
gentlemen, we may say "all right." 



353 



IL FAUT QU^IL L'APPRENNE DONC. 

AN ANECDOTE. 

Whoever has travelled the route from Calais to Dun- 
kerque, must allow, if his commendations are as vera- 
cious as thos3 bestowed by Sterne on the Pont Neuf, that 
it is the most delightful, cheerful, romantic, sylvan scene, 
that traveller in search of the picturesque could wish, or 
poetic imagination conceive. It is delightful, inasmuch as 
you are exposed to the full glare of a meridian sun in sum- 
mer, and enjoy the full benefit of a north-east wind in 
winter. It is romantic, being a dead flat all the way; 
sylvan, from not the vestige of a tree meeting the eye for 
twenty-five miles out of the thirty ; and cheerful, from the 
anticipation of meeting, if you go at the proper hour, a 
donkey with his driver, a charrette, and the diligence. 
But unless we start at particular hours, the or a donkey and 
a charrette will be about the maximum of fellow-wayfarers 
to be expected. It fell, however, to my lot on two occa- 
sions to have the weary monotony of this route broken into 
by incidents that would have proved expensive ones, had 
I not contrived to reimburse myself by means that, though 
they come before us in rather a questionable shape, were, 
I hold, justifiable, on the "lex talionis" principle. 

Driving along this road of blessed memory, a French 
carrier considerately conceded to my use a portion of the 
road just one foot less than the width of my axletree. The 
consequence of the collision was the compressing my gig 
into the smallest possible compass, just as we do a camp 
stool, the difference being that the stool can be opened 
again at pleasure, whereas I paid Tilbury twenty pounds 
to bring the gig again into proper form and dimension. 

On applying to the very improperly called proper au- 
thorities, also of blessed memorij, for redress, I was told^ 

30* 



354 CHAQUE PAYvS, CHAQUE MODE. 

that mine being the lighter vehicle I should have got out 
of the way, and that I might think myself most leniently 
dealt with if Monsieur le Charrettier did not punish me for 
having assaulted him. I did not deny I had given the fellow 
a punch or two on the head, and a straight one in his sto- 
mach; on receiving which last visitation he bellowed as if 
I was going to murder him, and incontinently took to his 
heels, or rather his cart, and then set his dog at me. As 
he rose at me I gave him also a straight one in his throat, 
when, like his master, he bolted. All this was fact. An 
Englishman in the Frenchman's place would have been 
ashamed to have allowed it was so, and I think an English 
magistrate would have been a little ashmed had he made 
the decision of Monsieur le . 

Now I must most candidly confess, that though in a 
general way I like France and French people, and more 
particularly French cuisine, I did on this occasion, even in 
court, most energetically d French law, and most par- 
ticularly and especially this particular and especial French 
. I suppose all this was considered as either plead- 
ing my own cause, or held as complimenting the Court 
on its lenity, for I was requested to repeat it in French. 
This I was preparing to do, with embellishments, but my 
avocat very wisely advised me to hold my tongue, and said 
I was only stating I did not understand French law: this 
was quite satisfactory, so, I suppose, in lieu of damages, I got 
this piece of advice from the bench — " II faut qu'il Papprenne 
done." 1 thought this hint was quite superfluous, my first 
lesson having completely enlightened me on the subject. 

My next appearance before the most worthy showed 

how little I had profited by his advice, or I should not have 
troubled him again ; but 1 did, and my present case was 
this: — Riding one evening after dark along the' same de- 
lectable road, on a favourite English horse, down he dropped 
as if he had been shot, sending me over his ears en avant- 
courrier. This mishap had arisen from my (Englishman- 
like) taking the side of the pave in preference to the mid- 
dle of the route. A drain had been left open of about two 
feet deep, into which my horse had gone. He was up in a 
moment; I remounted, and what I said about French high 
roads was had enough then^ but when I examined m\ 



«A HORSE, A HORSE, MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE." 355 

horse's knees by the first light I came to, and found two 
concavities made in them something the size of a teacup, 
I fear what I said was ten times worse. I really now 
thought, that from this trap having been left open, and, 
holding myself a loser of about thirty pounds each knee, 
some redress would be afforded me. I found, however, 
that redress, something like promotion reward of services, 
was likely to be some time in coming, for I was first told 
I had no business riding where I did; and secondly, from 
whom was the redress to come? Before this could be got 
at, it was necessary to find who made the drain, and it be- 
hooved me to find that out. ^'Did Monsieur know who it 
was?" Of course Monsieur did not. I saw my chance 
was out, but to render assurance doubly sure, out came 
again the infernal ^'Ilfaut quHl V apprenm doncy 

The prayers of the wicked are sometimes heard; I prayed 

for a chance to return all favours to Monsieur le , and 

it came. 

I learned that his lady had taken a mania for riding en 
Amazon, and that her lord and master would give any 
price for a perfectly broke English horse accustomed to 
carry a lady. 

Just before I left England a ver)^ beautiful horse that 
had been carrying a friend of my wife's had unfortunately 
gone badly broken-winded, so much so as to be useless. I 
started my groom off for this said horse, and he brought 
him back in blooming condition, and looking worth as 
any lady's horse could be, and only six years old. I got 
the daughter of a friend of mine, a girl nine years of age, 
to ride him about the town, taking care he should be seen 
by the lady and her good lord. The beauty and docility of 
the horse in carrying a mere child, could not be resisted, 
so a note arrived filled with apologies for asking if I would 
sell "le beau cheval," in which case I was begged to name 
a price, and to pass my word that he was as docile as he 
appeared. Monsieur would only ask leave for a friend to 
look at him in the stable, who would bring the ^'argent 
comptant.'" I replied by saying I would sell the horse, 
that on my honour he was " doux comme un agnenu," a 
hundred and fifty napoleons his price, and that Monsieur's 



356 "the knight he sat erect and fair." 

friend was quite welcome to see him, assuring Monsieur 
" de ma parfaite consideration," &c. &c. Yes, thinks I to 
myself, you are welcome to ma parfaite consideration, but I 
suspect you will not get much consideration for your hun- 
dred and fifty. I have the " Ilfaut qu^il Papprenne'' fresh 
in my memory — chacun a son tour ! 1 have not spent so 
much money about horses without being able to make a 
broken-winded one fit to be examined by your friend. 

The "05W2 " came; the ^.^ valet (Pecurie " came; the sad- 
dle and bridle (such a saddle, a kind of "demipique" re- 
suscitated) the bridle half red velvet and silver buckles, 
came — no matter; the money came. Out of kindness to 
the horse, I desired the French groom not to give him any 
cold water that day. Those initiated in such matters will 
know why; the groom did not. // faut qxCil VapprcnnCj 
thinks I. The groom mounted, rode off "en dragon," stiff 
as a poker, Monsieur I'ami walking by his side, and, as I 
saw. Frenchman-like, stopping ten times in the street to 
show le beau cheval to some friend. Tout h Vlieure, tout h 
Vheure, thought I. 

The next evening Vanii waited on me, begging I would 
go with him to look at the horse. " Volentiers, Mon- 
sieur,''^ and away we went. I found him of course blow- 
ing away like a blacksmith's bellows. What was de mat- 
tere? vasde horse indispose. "Eh, non; Monsieur says z7 e^^ 
poiissif; voila toui.^'* '^ Poussif, poiissif!^^ cried Mon- 
sieur le . Sacre ! do I hear you right? you 

say de hors. is what you call broke in de vind,— do I hear 
dat?" — "Yes," said I, "you do;" and thinks I to myself, 
Madame will hear it too occasionally if she rides hirn. 
Monsieur assured me he had no idea of the horse being so 
when he bought it. 1 freely expressed my conviction 
that this was correct. Vat vas he to do? " Ce n'est pas 
mon affaire cela,''^ said 1. 

Doubtless my reader has seen two Frenchmen in a pas- 
sion; but two most passionate ones in a regular white-heat 
rage is really a treat. Now, says I, for the coup-de-thea- 
tre. 1 reminded Monsieur of the broken gig and broken 
Jinee decisions ; he recognised me in a moment. " No^^% 
Monsieur," says I, " what have you got to say ? You want- 



ON A BIEN DES CHOSES d'APPRENDRE. 357 

ed un beau cheval, — you have him ; you wanted a docile 
one, — you have that also ; I said nothing about his being 
sound: you have no fault to find with me." — " Mais mil U 
ionneres ! I no vant de hors broke in de vind, dat go 
puff puff all de day long." — " Cest possible,''^ says I, 
" mais cela rri'est parfaitement indifferent. You trusted 
to your friend's judgment.^' — "Bote my friend have no 
judgment for de hors." — "// faut, Monsieur^ said 1, 
making my bow, " qu'il Vapprenne doncJ^ 



THE END. 



PUBLISHED BY LEA AND BLANCIIARD. 

MISS ACTON'S COOKERY. 



MODERN COOKERY IN ALL ITS BRANCHES, reduced to a 
System of Easy Practice, for the use of Private Families. In a Seriea 
of Practical Receipts, all of which are given with the most minute 
exactness. By Eliza Acton. With numerous Wood-cut Illustrations. 
To which is added, a Table of Weights and Measures. The whole 
revised and prepared for American Housekeepers, by Mrs. Sarah 
J. Hale, from the second London edition. In one large 12mo. volume. 



The publishers beg to present a few of the testinionials of the English 
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"Miss Eliza Acton may congratulate herself on having composed a work of great utility, and 
one that is speedily finding its way to every 'dresser' in the kingdom. Her Cookery-book is 
unquestionably the most valuable compendium of the art that has yet been published. It 
strongly inculcates economical principles, and points out how good things may be concocted 
without that reckless extravagance which good cooks have been wont to imagine the best evi- 
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" The arrangement adopted by Miss Acton is e.xcellent. She has trusted nothing to others. 
She has proved all she has written by personal inspection and experiment. The novel feature 
of her book, which will greatly facilitate the labours of the kitchen, is the summary appended to 
each recipe of the materials which it contains, with the exact proportion of every ingredient 
and the precise time required to dress the whole." — London Atlas. 



"Aware of our own incompetency to pronounce upon the claims of this volume to the cotifi 
dence of those most interested in its contents, we submitted it to more than one professor of the 
art of cookery. The report made to ua is more than favourable. We are assured that Mi-^s 
Acton's instructions may be safely followed ; her receipts are distinguished for exccllenne. The 
dishes prepared according to Miss Acton's directions — all of which, she tells us, have been 
tested and approved — will give satisfaction by their delicacy, and will be found economical in 
price as well as delicious in flavour. With such attestations to its superior worth, there is no 
doubt that the volume will be purchased and consulted by the domestic authorities of eveiy 
family in which good cookery, combined with risjid economy, is an object of interest." — Olobe. 

" We have subjected this book to the severe test of practice, and we readily concede to it the 
merit of being a most useful auxiliary to the presiding genius of the cuisine. The instructions 
it gives in all that relates to culinary affairs are comprehensive, judicious, and completely 
divested of old-fashioned twaddle. It contains, besides.- some novel features, calculated to facili- 
tate the labours of cookery ; the principal of those is the summary appended to each receipt of 
the exact quantities of the ingredients it contains, and the precise time required to dross tiio 
dish. To the practical woman who seeks to combine comfort with economy in the direction of 
her household concerns, this book will prove an invaluable treasure." — Sunday Times. 

" We cannot, therefore, too warmly recommend to the notice of our junior brethren this conr 
pilation of Eliza Acton's, which will prove as useful to young Mrs. and her cook in the kitchen', 
as Thomson's Dispensatory or Conspectus to the young doctor in the library." — Modlcif-Ckirnf- 
gical Review. 



" Mistress Acton writes well, to the point, and like a woman of sterling sense; her preface ou«lii 
to be printed on a broadside, and taught to all the young ladies at' all the boardihg"- schools, 
and all the day-schools, whether boarding or not, in England. 

"The whole of Miss Acton's receipts, with a few trifling exceptions, which are scrupu- 
lously specified, 'are confined to such as may bo perfectly depended on from having been proved 
beneath our own roof, and under our personal inspection.' We add, moieovc-r, that the 
receipts are all reasonable, and never in any instance extravagant. They do not bid us >>4cri- 
fice ten pounds of e.vcellenl meat that we may get a couplcofquar'ts of gravy from it; nor do they 
deal with butter and eggs as if they cost nothing. Miss Acton's book is a tjood book io evety 
way; there is right-mindedness in every tJaH of It, as well as thorough knowledge of the Bub^ 
ject |be handles. "~Z,on<ii77t Medical Gazette. (14) 



MODERN COOKERY, 

IN ALL ITS BRANCHES: 

REDUCED TO 

A SYSTEM OF EASY PRACTICE, 

FOR THE USE OF PRIVATE FAMILIES, 



IN A SERIES OF RECEIPTS, WHICH HAVE BEEN STRICTLY TESTED, AND 
ARE GIVEN WITH THE MOST MINUTE EXACTNESS. 



BY ELIZA ACTON. 



II*LUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS WOODCUTS. 



TO WHICH ARE ADDED 



DIRECTIONS FOR CARVING, GARNISHING, AND SETTING OFT THE TABLE ; 



TABLE OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES 



THE "WHOLE REVISED AND PREPARED 

FOE, AMERICAN HOUSEKEEPERS, 
BY MRS. S. J. HALE. 

FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITIOW. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

LEA AND BLANCHARD. 

1845. 



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LETTERS OF HORACE WALPOLE 

EARL OF ORFORD, ' 

CONTAINING 

NEARLY THREE HUNDRED LETTERS, 

Now first published from the originals, forming an uninterrupted serie 
from the year 1735 to 1797 ; containing his letters to George Montagi 
Esq. ; Sir Morace Mann ; Richard West, Esq. ; Lady Craven ; Gray (th 
poet ;) Hon. H. Seymour Conway ; John Chute, Esq. ; Sir David Dalrym 
pie ; Rev. William Mason ; Lady Hervey ; the Earl of Hertford ; Richap 
Bentley, Esq.; Earl of Strafford; Mrs. Hannah More; David Hume 
Esq., «fec., &c., with a splendid Portrait of the Author, in Four beautifu 
Volumes. 



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merit of being the liveliest picture of manners, and the best epitome of political his 
tory that not only this, but any country possesses."— Quarterly Review. 

" No general collection of the letters of Horace VValpole has ever been made whic! 
will at all compare in fulness with the present work. '— JVbriA./?7n. Review. 

" Horace Walpole may decidedly claim preeminence for ease and liveliness of ex 
pressioii, terseness of remark, and felicity of narration above almost all the epistolar; 
writers of Great Britain."— Qua7-te?/y Review. 

" VValpole's Letters are full of wit, pleasantry, and information, and written witl 
singular neatness and sprightliness." — Edinburg Revieio. 

"One of the most useful and important publication that has issued from the pres 
for the last quarter of a century. It is illustrated with notes, drawn up with con 
summate tact. Such a work, so enriched with all tliat is necessary to render it com 
plete, is one of the most valuable that any lover of sterling English literature cai 
possess." — Sun. 

" As a book of reference, this edition of Walpole's Letters must henceforth tak< 
its place among tlie memoirs and histories of the time. As a book of gossip, it i; 
perhaps the complelest work of the kind in the English language."— y/tc Times, 

" One of the very best works of its class, if not unique, in the English language 
a work full of information, full of anecdote, and full of amusement; equally fit foi 
the library of the scholar, the dilettante, the artist, the statesman, and the genera 
rea6er."--Literary Gazette. 

"Walpole's Letters are unequalled in our language; delightful in themseU'es, anc 
a most anmsing and instructive conmientary on the history of parties, and of tht 
country, frora J735 to 1797." — Athenmum. 

"It is the only complete edition of the incomparable letters of this 'prince ol 
epistolary writers,' as he has been justly called ; and the letters themselves arc 
arranged in chronological or Aer."— Dublin Evening Mail. 

" Those who have never yet read Horace Walpole's letters— and they must be still 
in their teens — have much enjoyment before them ; those who are familiar with his 
style, including all who deserve to read, will here renew the pleasure they have bc 
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" Miss Eliza Acton may congratulate herself on having composed a work of great utility, and 
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unquestionably the most valuable compendium of tlie art that has yet been published. It 
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art of cookery. The report made to us is more than favourable. We are assured that Misa 
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dishes prepared according to Miss Acton's directions — all of which, she tells us, have been 
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" We cannot, therefore, too warmly recommend to the notice of our junior brethren this com- 
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WHITE'S UNIVERSAL HISTOllY. 

LEA AND BLANC HARD 

HAVE LATELY PUBLISHED, 

ElEMENTS OP CfflraRSll HISTORY, 

ON A NEW AND SYSTEMATIC PLAN ; 

FROM 
THE KARIilEST TIMES TO THE TREATY OP VIENNA J 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, 

A. SUMMARY OF THE LEADING EVENTS SINCE THAT PERIOD , 

FOR THE 

USE OF SCHOOLS AND PRIVATE STUDENTS. 
BY H. WHITE, B.A., 

TRINITY COLLEaE, CAMBTaDGE ; 

WITH ADDITIONS AND aUESTIONS, 
BY JOHN S. HAKT, A.M., 

PRINCIPAL OF THE PHILADELPHIA HI&H SCHOOL, AND PROFESSOR OF MORAL 
AND MENTAL SCIENCE, ETC., ETC. 

In one Volume, large Duodecimo, neatly bound in Maroon. 

The Publishers, in presenting " White's Universal History'" to the public, 
believe that it is calculated to fill a deficiency, long existing in school-books, of a 
good and an accurate condensed manual of the History of the World, fitted as an 
essentially appropriate work for schools. Some of those now in use have been 
long before the public, and since their appearance, many interesting investigations 
have been made, and important facts developed ; some are meagre in their details, 
and the narrations given are proved by later researches to be incorrect ; while none 
embrace a broad and philosophical view of the gatherings of late historians. 

It is believed that the present volume is capable of fulfilling these indications. 
The Author, who has had great experience as a teacher of history, has spent 
several years in the composition of the work ; and every effort has been made to 
insure its accuracy during its passage through the press. In his Preface, he re- 
marks that " he has consulted the best works in the English language, and 
acknowledges his great obligations to several of the more recent French and Ger- 
man writers. The references introduced in the body of the work, serve to indicate 
the main sources from which his information has been derived ; and it is hoped 
they will also be serviceable to the student, by directing the course of his further 
researches, as well as inducing him to continue them in a more extended field." 



WHITE'S UNIVERSAL HISTORY. 



The work is divided into three parts, corresponding with Ancient, Middle, am 
Modern History; which parts are again subdivided into centuries, so that the varioui 
events are presented in the order of time, while it is so arranged that the annalt 
of each country can be read consecutively, thus combining the advantages of botl 
the plans hitherto pursued in works of this kind. To guide the researches of th« 
student, there will be found numerous synoptical tables, with remarks and sketche.- 
of hterature, antiquiiies, and manners, at the great chronological epochs. 

As to the method to be adopted in using this manual, " the compiler deems i 
unnecessary to offer any lengthened directions ; the experienced teacher will readil) 
adopt that best suited to those under his charge. The work may be used simpl} 
as a reading-book ; but a certain portion should be given 3ut for the attentive stud) 
of the pupil, after which he should be closely questioned, not only as to the more 
general facts, but also the most trivial circumstances recorded." To facilitate this 
exercise on the part of the teacher, the American Editor, Mr. J. S. Hart, has 
added a series of Questions, which will be found very useful to those who prefei 
this mode of instruciion. 

In preparing this edition, the American Editor has paid particuljir attention ic 
those portions of the work which treat of American History, making them mort 
full, and correcting those mistakes which are inevitable in one residing at such i 
distance from the source of information. His extended and well-earned reputatior 
as a teacher, is a sufficient guarantee that whatever has paaaed under his revisior 
will be free from all errors of importance. 

In conclusion, the publishers have to observe, that during the short time in whicl 
this work has been before the public, it has received the most flattering testimoniih 
of approbation. Already it has been introduced into many of the highest class of 
institutions for instruction, and three editions have been called for in less than a year 

A few recommendations and notices are subjoined. 



Mestrs. Lea ^ Blanchard: 

Gentlemex — I return the volume of "Elements of Universal History" yor 
left with me a few days since. On a cursory examination, it appears to me to be 
niiich the best of the elementary works on the subject which I have met with. 
The author has executed his method with a great deal of skill, and by this mean? 
has avoided much of the confusion which is apt to occur in manua'3 of Universal 
History. The book is a very comprehensive one, and must have cost Mr. Wlute 
great labor in collating, and still more in arranging his materials. He shows, more- 
over, a direct acquaintance with many of the best historical authorities, among 
them, those of late years. I have turned to several periods of history which I 
thought would be most likely to show its character, and find them treated wiih 
considerable fairness and accuracy ; indeed, it is unusually free from the prejudices 
that often disfigure books of this sort — I mean on questions of history. 

The book is one that might, I am inclined to think, be introduced with advan- 
tage as an historical text-book for the younger classes in our colleges. It will be 
found, too, I believe, a convenient manual for private students, which is one of the 
uses contemplated by the author. Let me add that, judging from the passages I 
have looked at, the book is written in good, unaffected English. 
Truly and respectfully, 

HENRY REED, 
Professor of Belles Leitres in the University of Pennsylvania. 



A NEW WORK FOR SCHOOLS 



r ^ r.. . . Clinton St., Phila. Sept. 15, 1844. 

Messrs. JLea c^ Blanchard : 

Gentlemen,— I thank you for the c»py of "White's Elements of Universal His- 
tory, " which you were ^kind as to send me. After a somewhat careful examination 
of it, I was so much pTOsed with its arrangement, with the judgment evinced in 
it in the selection of facts, and in the high moral tone which pervades it through- 
out, that I determined to introduce it into my school. My first class have been 
studying it smce the commencement of the term, and I am increasingly pleased 
with it. Respectfully yours, C. D. CLEAVELAND, A.M. 

Author of "Grecian Antiquities," (J<. 



3Iessrs. Lea ^ Blanchard: 

I am indebted to your politeness for an opportunity of examining White's Ele- 
ments of Universal History, lately pubUshed by you. It gives me pleasure to add 
my suffrage to the respectable testimonials of teachers and others, with which the 
work has been favoured. 

In my opinion, it affords to teachers and students a facility for imparting and ac- 
quiring a knowledge of history, superior to any single volume I have ever met 
with, while it proves an invaluable addition, as a book of reference, to every pri- 
vate gentleman's library. JOSEPH P. ENGLES, 

Classical Institute. 
Philadelphia, August 2Qth, 1844. 



Messrs. Lea 4* Blanchard: 

Gentlemen — I offer you my sincere thanks for the copy of "White's Universal 
History," which you were so kind as to send me a few days ago. The work 
pleases me so much, that I have determined to use it in my academy. 

I am, very respectfully, 

Your obedient servant, 

CHA'S PICOT. 



NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 

Tlie WeatminBter Review, in noticing the work. ( things, and separates, by typographical changes, 

renfiarks— " Without branching out into unneces- \ the narrative of events from the commentary on 

sary or minute details, it contains a succinct nar- \ thera." — Spectator. 

rativo of the principal events in our world's his- \ ., _, . , , , . 

lory, from the earliest ages to the present time. \ ^his work has been compiled with skill."- 

drawn up in a simple and luminous style. < Uienauvi. 

The author makes no pretensions to originality; .. rphig work appears to us to supply a want 

" If he shall be pronounced fortunate m the < ^^ich has long been felt in American Schools 

choice and condensation of his materials, he gn^j Colleges. The History of the World, from 

will," he says, "have attained the object of his the Creation down to the present time, has been 

wishes." This modest claim we, for our part. ^ arranged by Mr. White in such a way as to ren- 

unhesitatingly accord to his labours. The present > <jer the study of his elegant synopsis easy and 

summary will not only prove a valuable class- \ agreeable. From its character, we believe that 

book, but may be advantageously consulted by I xh\a book is ultimately destined to supersede eve- 

those who have not in youth been systematically ) ry other in the same department that has hitherto 

trained in historical knowledge." > appeared. The style in which it is ' got up' 

I does credit to the enterprising publishers."— JVew 

" The Elements of Universal History" is en- < World. 

titled to great praise ; the writer has taken firm < __^— . 

(rasp of his subject : he exhibits a just estimate of < " We were induced, by several noticoB of this 



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